Here is Abby with her Granda, Thursday evening after her ballet performance. (I'm still not used to seeing pictures of him without the mustache.) She, of course, was the cutest and most talented. We are one of the few families in the country who get tax deductions for exceptionally beautiful children. (Never heard of such a deduction? Oh dear. I'm sorry.)
Anyway, it was a lovely performance of the fairy tale "Sleeping Beauty." The kids ranged in age between 3 and 18, and were mostly girls with a handful of little boys. Somehow the dance school got their hands on a very professional-looking ballet guy to play the part of the Prince. I must confess, I haven't been comfortable watching male ballet dancers since I was about 8 years old. Believe me, I have great respect for men who have studied classical dance and for the skill and strength that it requires, but I sensed that the majority of the audience had as immature an attitude about men in tights as I have. And it didn't help that at the pinnacle of the performance (Sleeping Beauty and Prince Charming hook up) all I could think about was how this guy that Lesley went out with back in the day once asked:
"if a female ballet dancer is called a ballerina, does that make a male ballet dancer a ballerin-o?"
I really was trying to be mature about this. I didn't want to stoop to the level of the uncultured snickerers in the audience. But we were on the second row, and this ballerino in his tights was dancing practically on top of us, and my mom was laughing at the ballerino thing with me. (Yes, DeAnn was laughing. She will deny this.) I guess after 2 hours of fluffy little girls and teenage dancers taking themselves oh-so-seriously, I just couldn't take it. Inappropriate laughter comes very naturally to me. The "ballerino" debate continues...