I watched as my little one, sang and dance at her ballet recital. Surrounded by eight little girls. Sweetness and innocence filled the room. Young little girls in pigtails, pink and rainbow tutus laughing, giggling and dancing the best way they knew how. Parents were hovering about, smiling, waving cameras and camcorders, trying to capture that twist or that arabesque on film. Memories I am certain that will be repeated ten years from now when parents are trying to recapture the nostalgia of these moments.
My little girl wasn’t shy. She didn’t freeze. She sang loud. Her twists and her tip-toes were cute, as were the other girls interpretation. As my husband and I watched, we clapped, the vibrations of everyone’s applause filling the room, while the smile never left my face or my husband’s. As much as I want this post to be about my daughter’s recital, it is what happened afterward that will flash in my mind forever as a mother.
As a way to reward our daughter, we decided she could pick out a couple of things at Target, a place of comfort, in my opinion, for adults and children. My daughter picked out three things from the dollar aisle. In her hand, were a set of princess stickers, scrapbook letters, and a notebook. As we exited out of the store, she carried her items in her bag, careful not to let any of the contents drop.
Once we got home, she was working hard. She opened her goodies, cutting the scrapbook letters, and putting them on top of the notebook. For thirty minutes, her attention was on filling the front of this notebook with all that she bought. As I was wrapping up in the kitchen, she comes to me and hands me the notebook. She says to me, “Here Momma, this is for you. This is for Mother’s Day.” I pressed pause. I asked her, “You sure you don’t want to keep this notebook for yourself? It was your reward for doing a good job at the recital.” She says to me, “No, Momma, I bought all this for you.”
I have a very wide smile on my face tonight. Tutus, Singing, Dancing, and a Notebook. A Notebook I will cherish until the end of my life.