broccoli ballet

This is Superfrykid's first year of ballet.

She's 8, which by many standards is probably WAAAAY too late to really get a good foundation for becoming the professional dancer that I'm sure she will aspire to be.  But I'm a slacker mom like that, so stop judging me.

Anyway, if you don't know me in real life, dance is probably #1027 on my list of things I don't like.  It's not that I have anything against it, but it's just not my "thing", ya know?

Probably this has something to do with the fact that I have no dancing skills whatsoever.  In general, I only like things I'm good at, and dancing is not one of those.  As a matter of fact, maybe that's why I pretty much hate everything because I'm not really good at much.  But that's a discussion for another day.

Back to ballet.

Superfrykid has really been enjoying her class and this week she was really excited because they were going to see a picture of their costumes for their recital.

Superfrydad went in to pick her up while I sat in the car. (Because he's awesome and I hate going into the waiting area and pretending to be normal and nice and dance-mom-ish).....anyway...Superfrykid came out to the car and here's how the conversation went:

ME:  "Did you see your costume?"

Silence from the back seat.

SUPERFRYDAD: "It's green and it's sparkly."

ME: (Trying to feign excitement because really I could care less as long as it doesn't look like it was made for a midget streetwalker.):  "Ooooh....sparkly!  That sounds pretty!"

Silence from the back seat.

ME: (turns around to look at SFK) "Do you like it?"

SFK:  (crosses arms and makes a snooty face)

ME:  "What's wrong with green and sparkly?"

SFK: (shrieking) "I"M BROCCOLI!!!!!"

ME: (quickly turning back to the front to hide my face while laughing uncontrollably) "I didn't know broccoli could dance!"  (Laughter turns to snorts and uncontrollable giggles)

SFK: "Mommmmmmmmm!  You're mean!"

ME:  (singing) "Broc-co-leeeeee, Cel-er-eeeee, Gotta Beeeeeeee, VeggieTales.  Lima Beeeeeeeeeans, Collard Greeeeeeens, Peachy Keeeeeen, Veggietales." (to the tune of the theme song from VeggieTales, for you heathens)

She may never speak to me again because I could not get my laughter under control.

But, really?  Broccoli?

This ballet class is not cheap and you're telling me that my kid is going to be broccoli in the recital?

You know what?  Dancing broccoli could be the beginning of something great in her life.  I shouldn't laugh at it.  I can't wait for the recital.  I was thinking that I was going to try to get out of volunteering in the dressing room, but maybe volunteering in the dressing room is preferable over sitting through all of the food groups expressing themselves through dance, which is what I am thinking the theme MIGHT be.

On second thought, I might still try to avoid that dressing room duty because I might miss the macaroni macarena or the rutabaga rumba.  Oh, and of course, the broccoli ballet.