So you think you can dance?

Dancing seems to be one of those talents that was disproportionately spread in my family (just ask Jared, the former BYU ballroom dancer, who tried to help me learn a dance for my social dance class once up on a time).

 Evelyn, however, loves dancing. If she hears music, she'll dance. Sometimes she doesn't even need music. So we've signed her up for a weekly dance class. And in this town, that means the occasional performance.

A week or so ago, when we got the dresses for the performance, Evelyn excitedly told her father, "Daddy, my dance teachers bought me a beautiful dress!" Um, no. That dress was paid for by your parents, kid. In any case, we're grateful that she got a cute dress. (Seriously, some of the costumes are just strange).

This Saturday was her first performance, at a local scam talent show, where the dancers get in free but all of their family members pay to get in. (Not much, but given the number of dances, I'm sure they made a pretty tidy profit just off family members.)

 She was pretty excited about the whole thing--from the costume, to the ridiculous little bun she was required to have (seriously, I hair-sprayed and bobby-pinned that thing within an inch of its life), and the lipstick and blush she was also (required) to have.

She still doesn't quite get the concept of smiling for the camera.

 

 

You'll have to pardon the quality of the next several shots--we were in a large commons room at a local high school, and if I used the flash, I got a dim picture; if I didn't use the flash, it was too blurry. One of these days I'll get around to a new camera. In the meantime, you get these highly edited pictures, just to get a sense of the dance routine. (Next time, I'll know what apparently all experienced dance moms know--don't try to take pictures, just record the dang routine).

 

  

 This last one is super blurry (no flash), but I loved the funny little cheek on hands that they used to close the routine. Of course, probably only half of the dancers actually made it into position, but three year olds have a huge advantage on older dancers: they're just as cute when they mess up the routine as when they nail it.

Saturday, in general, was a busy day. We started with Bountiful Baskets (a friend was kind enough to get ours for me, because I was carless, as Dan had driven the car down to SG to help his parents pick up his brother Matt, who's in town for Thanksgiving). Then Andrew had Junior Jazz at 9:00 at one high school, and we had to be at the other high school at 10 to get ready for Evelyn's performance. At 11, Andrew had a pirate birthday party at a friend's house. He's been entertaining us with pirate speak since he got back.

In the afternoon, after finishing a freelance project 6 days early (go me!), we finally finished bagging the piles of leaves that I'd raked up on Thursday (with some help--or interference--from the kids).

This last is just because she's cute and we love her--and she's been a little sick all week.

 

We're all looking forward to a break this week: food, family, books, shopping . . . maybe not necessarily in that order. At least you know what my priorities are, right?