A Day at the Ballet

Last Saturday, Min's good friend Rachel came to Washington to dance at the Kennedy Center with the NYC Ballet. Always thoughtful of Margot, Rachel secured tickets to the matinee performance and a tour of the backstage area for Margot. She also invited us to watch class warm-ups before the performance.

For Margot this was truly a dream come true. She adored watching the warm-ups, and was especially enthralled when the pianist played the Indiana Jones theme song for the dancers. [Although, truth be told, she immediately turned to me and said, "You can't dance ballet to this!" I pointed out that yes, apparently you can. Later, the pianist stopped by to say hello to Margot and noted that she tried to play songs Min would recognize and enjoy. By the way, that last pun was fully intended.]

Rachel also gifted Margot with the toe shoes that she wore in Friday evening's performance. Margot was excited at the prospect of dancing in Rachel's shoes (quite literally) and was disappointed when told that she'd have to wait years to dance in toe shoes. [I plan to hang them in her room, out of reach to avoid temptation.]

Apologies for the poor quality of the photos, but they were taken with my phone so are a little blurry.

Adventures in Wyoming

(Margot beneath the elk-horn arch in the town square of Jackson, WY)

After a long, snowless winter, we booked a trip to Jackson, WY, to have a little fun in the snow before (blessed) Spring arrives in a few weeks. Lo and behold, it snowed 6+ inches in DC while we were away. (We can't win.)

The trip was full of ups and downs - literally and figuratively. After all, it was a ski/snowboard vacation. (Go ahead - groan all you want. I recognize that is horrible writing, but it's late and I'm not feeling creative right now. My 9-5 job is draining my brain these days.)

And so here is a summary of the ups and downs of Jackson.

Let's start with a major downer:

This is what a missed flight looks like. For the first (and hopefully only) time in my life, I missed a flight. The plane was still at the gate, but delays in parking, security, and checked baggage brought us to the gate three minutes after they closed the door. The most painful part was that the plane was still sitting there at the gate, but the agent wouldn't let us board. I tried crying but to no avail. The heartless gate agent never raised his eyes from his computer screen.



Things improved, though.

Here's Min on the up and up (groan again, go ahead). She's above 10,000 feet for the first time (well, other than in an airplane):


And here she is learning to ski. The ever-resourceful Brodie fashioned a harness for her and spent over an hour on the bunny hill with the Min (this was in lieu of ski school). She rode the tow rope by herself, and, while it looks as if they are on a flat surface, let me assure you that she did a great job sliding down the bunny hill. Each time she would assume a crouched, Quasimodo-like stance and just slide on down with a huge smile on her face the whole way. By the end, she even did a few turns. I was really amazed at how much she improved over last year.


The ski champ!

Eyes in the Back of my Head

I've gotten good at staying two steps ahead of Margot and anticipating her actions when she is out of my sight. I recognize that at some point in the past four years I crossed over to the other side. Once I was the person trying to get away with things; now I am piecing together the clues.

Tonight I put Margot to bed with instructions to go straight to sleep since she has a ballet recital tomorrow morning. (My wish for her to go straight to bed had less to do with the recital than for my desire to have some time to myself. Bedtime is often accompanied by plaintive requests for water, worries over stuffed animals who haven't been seen in a year, and other delays.)

About five minutes after I came downstairs, I heard: "THUD thud thud THUD THUD."

What could that pounding be?

Immediately it dawned on me.

"Put your shoes back in the closet and get in bed!" I shouted up the stairs. There was no reply from her room, but silence followed.

Aha! That one was easy. See, I bought Margot new shoes over the weekend that light up. The thuds were definitely Margot pounding her new shoes on the floor to watch the lights go on.

I secretly hope Margot fell asleep wondering, "How did she KNOW that?"

Tourists in Our Own Town

Min and I spent Saturday afternoon embracing the Smithsonians. First we went to the Museum of Natural History to check out the dinosaur bones:



Then we wandered through the Sculpture Garden, and Margot burned off the Valentine's Day candy she consumed earlier in the day:



We also spent a little time watching the ice skaters on the rink at the Sculpture Garden:


The best part about having a four-year-old is that she prompts us to do these sorts of things. When we lived on Capitol Hill, I can count the number of times we went down to the Smithsonians (and we were within walking distance!). Taking Min to the museums is so much fun that we make it a point to go once a month or so. Next up: the Sackler Gallery right around Cherry Blossom time!

Shout Out to Uncle Tim

Each day Margot chooses a different stuffed animal from her menagerie to accompany her to preschool. Yesterday she brought her Curious George puppet.

On the ride home from school, Margot asked me "Did Uncle Tim give me this Curious George?"

I paused and thought about it. My brother Tim did, in fact, give her that puppet. It was a Christmas present more than two years ago, during her obsessive "Monkey George" phase.

"Yes, he did give you that monkey. Do you remember that?" I asked her.

"Well, no," she said. "But he put his name on it."

"What?" I asked. "Where?"

"Right here," she said. "T-M. Tim. Tuh-mmm," she sounded the letters out. "T M spells Tim."

And there, beneath the script on George's shirt that spells Curious George, were the letters TM (for 'trademark').