woolrich men s arctic parka navy parka

woolrich men s arctic parka navy parka The Muffed Dance

Teri was 5. As woolrich men s arctic parkanger siblings do, she researched to her older sister, the dancer, greatly. Sara was 4 years older and was excelling in ballet, tap and jazz.

And then we enrolled Teri in the same dance school and she really seemed to enjoy the lessons and her new friends. She was now, of course, a dancer, like her sister. And Teri greatly anticipated the climax of her first dance season, the year-end dance recital this school put on.

If woolrich men s arctic parkave ever been a dance parent, woolrich men s arctic parka of course realize that the obligation is quite large. Aside from the weekly lessons, scheduled on different days within our case, there is the extra investment of woolrich men s arctic parka time and cash preparing for the big event - extra lessons and rehearsals, fittings for that completely different head-to-toe costume necessary for each dance number along with a parents meeting for every dancer to make sure everybody was on the same stage come recital night. Baseball parents get it easy!

As fate would have it, Teri had surgery to elongate her heel cord a couple weeks just before her dancing debut. But that did not stop her from carrying the heavy cast trying take care of the other performers. Thats my girl!

The big night arrives and in a flurry of hurried activity, we deliver our girls backstage complete with special hair dos along with a full coat of stage war paint and that we take our seats within the auditorium.

The area darkens, the curtain rises and also the show starts with the performances of a few of the advanced students. They beam with pride showing off the stuff theyd worked so difficult on all year long. A couple of Saras dances were slated so that as always, she didnt miss a step.

Then, to the ahhhh, arent they cutes of the packed house, the curtain lifts to show Teris class of little tykes all inside a line looking nervously around under the bright lights. At one end of the line was Teri, with her bulky cast in plain view and her hands tucked in the white muff within the starting position for the Muff Dance.

The moment arrived and music started. Teri didnt. She just stood there, still like a statue, while her friends slipped into their well- rehearsed routine.

Was she nervous? Did she forget her steps? Did her foot hurt?

Then, as if on cue, she gracefully took her left hand out of the muff and raised it to her face, inserted her index finger into her nostril and with the precision of a Texas oil driller, began a full-scale exploration of the orifice that seemingly wouldnt conclude until she hit paydirt! Thats my girl!

Obviously, the area erupted into hysterical laughter that overrode the loud music. I began to slither down during my seat trying not to be among the majority who were splitting a gut at the spectacle and increase the embarrassment that Teri must have been beginning to feel.

Suddenly, as though it finally registered that the non-relenting roar of laughter was directed at her, she ran off the stage. I had been already hustling from the theatre towards the backstage area awaiting needing to do some creative parenting and intense consolation.

With many different tear drying and a little coaxing I managed to convince my little dancer to get up with the show, where she performed the rest of her numbers, without needing her fingers.