Petalina Ballerina

For the last few months, my little Peter has been going to a ballet class. She loves it. She asks me every day if she gets to go to dance. Her little cousin (that is also her best friend) is in her class, too. So, she loves to go and get her groove on.

So, last night was her Winter Recital. We got her all dressed up in her leotard and pink sequined skirt. The dance people (whatever you call them) like their hair to be all the same, so Peter was supposed to put her hair in pig tails and curly. Peter's hair is the exact opposite of mine. It is STICK STRAIGHT. So, no matter what I try, it will NOT go curly. So, I was trying my darndest to curl her pig tails with my curling iron, and trying to spray each curl with hairspray, so it would stay, when I dropped the curling iron. It was still attached to her hair, so it bonked her little forehead before I caught it. But, unfortunately not quick enough. My poor little Peter got a curling iron burn on her forehead.

I tried to put a wet rag on it to cool it down for her but she wouldn't have it. She was completely ballistic! Screaming, stomping, going full boar into what we affectionately call "the mad dance." I tried comforting her, but once Peter goes into tantrum stage, it's like she is in a zone, there is absolutely nothing I can do for her, but wait for her to calm down.

I gave up on the hair, put her coat on her, and loaded her into the car (all the while she is still kicking and screaming).

We got to the recital (10 minutes late), I took her back to where her class was, said goodbye and went to sit with KJ & TJ who were trying to save seats for our family by themselves. (C was hurrying home from work early to come to the show, but hadn't made it yet).

Anyway, just as we settled in, my SIL came and found me, and said "Peter is freaking out. You better go help her."

So, I went backstage again. Sure enough, Peter was screaming "mama, mama." Broke my little heart. She was screaming so hard, you could see the blood vessels in her forehead. She had a bright red nose, mascara running, snotty face. You know, the epitome of the beautiful ballerina.

Finally, after trying and trying to console her unsuccessfully, I took her in the bathroom, wiped her face, and told her she could a) keep screaming, and get a spank, or b) stop screaming, go dance, and get an ice cream after.

She chose b. And stopped screaming. (If you haven't tried Love and Logic before, you should. It works....sometimes)

So, I was able to take my seat just before she went on. Here is a little video of her dance. The girl in the front in the middle is my neice. Just behind her is Peter. The one just standing there doing nothing. That's my Peter. The nut doesn't fall far from the tree, I guess.

Sorry about the shaky video. I was laughing uncontrollably, and couldn't hold the camera still.

After the dance, C asked me how much we are paying for dance lessons, because he doesn't think it's catching on.

Here is a picture of Peter in her costume. She looks happy because I took this picture before her dress rehearsal, the day before.

So she "did her dance" and came home and crashed at 7:30, while the rest of the family had ice cream for her.