The dance studio where Frances takes ballet classes had a recital at the end of its spring semester. Very low key, very wonderful. Frances's class was Summer, so they danced to "Sunshine, Lollipops and Rainbows," sung by Lesley Gore, and she got to wear flowers in her hair and wings, because, why not? (Her face was still slightly swollen from poison ivy scratching, but I don't think it took away from the overall complete wonderfulness.)
The cuteness and perfectionism - four year old perfectionism - makes my heart ache just a touch.
But this slays me:
Frances's friend Darby takes classes at the same dance studio, but in a class for older kids. Frances hadn't seen her for a week, while we were in Maine. She was just a little happy to be reunited. I worry sometimes about Frances being overly glass-half-empty (can't imagine where she gets it), but it gives me hope that she has such affection in her heart. She loves her buddies.
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