Stage Mother ...Oh Brother!

I fear I may have mentally become one of the dreaded stage mothers. I did not act on any of my thoughts or desires, thank goodness. The other day Ella had her first dance recital. I scoped out the front row of seats early so I would be able to see Ella up close. The auditorium was filling up. My sweet little Ella was in the hall with her teacher and fellow classmates practicing. After watching three other routines, I was ready to see my star! Remember, this was a recital for the 2 and 3 year old classes. My definition of "star" was a child that did not pick her nose, grab her crotch, suck her thumb, or cry during the short three minutes on stage. Out stomped her little gaggle of hot pink tutu clad ballerinas. My little star was in the back, I couldn't see a darn thing, my husband threw himself on the floor in order to attempt to get her on video. Ella must have thought that she was in a line because she stayed directly behind the little girl in front. I couldn't help but think if I could only slide the little girl two inches to the right. Perhaps next year I need to slip the instructor a 20 to have my girl in the front row. See what I mean, and we only have another 13 years of recitals!