Last week was Harlow's Peter and the Wolf ballet camp. (yeah, yeah adorable but seriously. why is school still out for the entire summer?) I picked her up on bird day and duck day, and she told me about flutes and oboes and masks and dancing with her best friend, Adelaide. I picked her up on wolf day and she was low to the ground, skittish, jumping into my arms and declaring that she DID NOT like the French horn. It was scary! she declared. This was a dramatic reversal from previous statements, where she insisted I inform Miss Mandy that she - and she only - would be the wolf. I thought this was kinda rad.
I quickly moved attempted some PR spin.
I love that your imagination is so strong, I told her. The music scared you because you imagined the wolf being right there!
You know my imagination, mama? she replied. I'm gonna pound it. In the face.
So much for that.
We're gathered at the recital. The kids come streaming in wearing their handmade shirts and costumes and then suddenly there is this creature who breaks rank and comes running for me, a cat-masked, duck-feathered, wolf-tailed Harlow who squeals Mommy! and flies into my arms. She gives me a hug, and I squeeze her back, laughing, kind of embarrassed to have all eyes in the performance space on me. But just as quickly my heart hurts in my chest, so humbled to be the only parent singled out for such a display.
I was too busy watching Harlow be all Um Miss Mandy? Oh, Miss Mandy? Can you, uh, Miss Mandy? to take pictures but I'm happy to report she flapped and quacked and yes - even waved a paw in the air and grrred through the scary French horn section.
photo by Nana
She has a brother, too. I may have mentioned him before. He's 3 months old (!) and cooing and smiling and fighting his way to sitting up and so deserves a longer post than I can manage at the moment. Maybe if he stops waking up at 4, I can find the energy to tell you more about him.