Last night, I had the esteemed honor of orchestra seats at the most critically acclaimed theatrical production in recent history. It was the opening night of my 6-year old nephew's school play, Wizard of Oz. Unfortunately, my nephew's stellar performances as a munchkin and a guardsman were eclipsed by that Dorothy chick and her ruby slippers.
Yesterday was an exceptionally rough day. It's that troubling time of the year where the sky is gray, the weather is cold, seniors are anxious, and everyone is in the middle of mid-terms...the antithesis of the 4th of July. To make matters worse, I hadn't slept all night and, like most, am sick. So needless to say, I was not in the best mood yesterday. I certainly was not in the mood to drive up to the tundra of
So I get to my nephew's school and I spot my sister and my niece saving seats for my mother and me. My niece runs over to me and accosts me with her hugs, kisses, and display of her newest fashion finds (she's 4 and already plagued with consuming shoe and accessory addiction). The play begins, and the moment I see that extra tall (surprising?) and lanky kid with the little gapped-tooth face looking out in the crowd and waiving for his family, my heart melts and all is right in the world. I thanked them with ice cream.
Here is a picture of my niece showing off the most recent piece in her collection
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