Dance of the (Pink) Snowflakes

A few weeks before we even reached Thanksgiving, I learned that the Children's Museum was having a special Nutcracker day.  Aha!  It pays to horde passes (and all we had to do to get them was submit Frances to a study at MIT)!  Perfect.  I was sure the museum would be a mad house, but I didn't think I could live with myself if I denied Frances an opportunity to mingle with actual Nutcracker characters.  So away we went.  And it wasn't even a mad house.  And Frances got to go out like this:

Just after we got there, we found a free ballet class being offered by a member of the Boston Ballet.  Frances was a bit shy at first, but after a bit I was able to peal her off of me and she joined the other kids in the class.

Heaven.

After the class, we designed our own costumes, made crowns, played in/with some dollhouses and found a real live Sugarplum (I think that's what she was).

Then, guess what?  It was time for another ballet class and we were ready.

Big fun was had by all.

(No, the children weren't all receiving communion.  At the end of the class, the ballet teacher told the kids they'd get a surprise if they held out their hands and closed their eyes.  Then he gave them all a squirt of Purell, because ballet is germy work?  Beats me, but Frances went along with it at the end of both classes.)