Amongst the sundry other diversions this weekend (all of which served to suck every available hour from the time period, as proven by (a) no gaming except Friday night, and (b) I have urgent e-mails from Friday afternoon that I haven’t even opened yet) was Kitten’s dance recital on Sunday afternoon. She’s been doing a Saturday morning 9 a.m. dance class down at the rec center (which works out just fine for the custodial morning parent du jour, since she’d be up by then anyway), and the teacher had a recital at Columbine H.S. (yes, that Columbine H.S.) for all her various dance classe.
Much videotape shot, of two different sorts:
- Kitten, in her new black dance outfit (complete with pink tights) sitting with the other 3-4s on the steps going up the stage, slowly creeping higher and higher to watch the other action more closely.
- Kitten and the 30-odd in her peer group, dancing and frolicking and flocking on stage, enrapt on what the teacher was leading them through, yet completely willing to do their own thing in a fashion that would put any Modern Interpretive Dancer to shame.
She had great fun with both activities, I must say. She’ll never be a ballet dancer — she comes from too much sturdy Viking stock for that — but it was just cool seeing her have such a great time.
And props to the Testerfolk who (after Katherine, unasked, invited Jackie to the recital) were there in force and had to sit through the rest of the mild entertainment with us.