Turns out I am perhaps the world’s worst dance mom. I have an accomplice though in the Husband, he’s not all that great a dance mom either.
Recently The Green Eyed Girl was part of a school dance troupe for a local competition. This was our first foray into the dance world. We have up until now escaped. There may have been a reason for this. A very good one.
Being the weekend we were having a slow kind of day. So, it was no surprise that when it was time to leave, there had been no thoughts about food. Not to worry, how long could this thing go for? That right there? That was the first inkling we were novices.
The second inkling was when all the other performers turned up with bags. Because they’d need somewhere for their regular clothes to go while they were in costume. Luckily someone had a spare supermarket bag for our child.
There had been some forethought into the evening. We had one bag of fantails. For three people. For four hours. We managed to purchase a bottle of water and 2 bags of salt and vinegar chips while there. I managed to pass our daughter 3 fantails, as she had to sit in the performers area. So, she was well sustained for her dance.
By the time the dancing started my thoughts had turned to gin. The fantails were all but gone and Hubby and I were calculating how long each dance on the programme would go for; how long between each dance and added ten minutes for interval. The horror when we realised how long the evening would be was written all over our faces.
Turns out interval was twenty minutes. Plus an extra five for good luck.
Audience members treated the event like some kind of über competitive sport in its own right. Yelling out, cheering and clapping with such ferocity I needed to hold Hubby’s hand. The MC even had to remind the crowd to only cheer before the dances, but not during. Tennis crowds had nothing on this lot.
As for recording the evening, we had a camera. On my phone. So we have some blurry shots and think we can make out our child. Kind of hard among a troupe of children, identically dressed, at least half of which have brunette hair in high ponytails.
You’d think that having been parents for 14 years now we’d have things sorted. We’d be organised. We’d have water bottles from home. Spare jumpers. Tissues. That kind of thing. But we don’t.
Turns out we were not alone. We saw at least two other families in the nearest burger joint at 10.30pm having their post dance fair evening meal.
As for the dancing itself, the troupe our daughter was part of won, also receiving a special award for most entertaining. Celebrating with a giant burger and fries late at night may have been less than stellar, but that’s just how this family rolls.
Are you organised? Or like me, just roll with the burgers and late night fries?