I know I promised more on Vegas, but given the events of the last couple of days- you guys have to hear this.
My oldest anklebiter goes to a public school. Public. Funded by taxpayers. A really great, nationally recognized PUBLIC school. This week it felt like an east coast private school straight out of the Nanny Diaries.
There is a talent show. Put on by elementary school kids. It's an annual tradition at this school, and folks take it seriously. My daughter was asked to join a group of girls- Kindergarten girls, to perform a 2 minute dance routine. Originally, she said no. Then she realized the weekly rehearsals were a kind of built in playdate and she enthusiastically agreed.
We started rehearsing. When I say "we" I mean the kids and the 2 high school students we hired to teach them a dance. I enjoyed hanging out with the other mothers during the rehearsals, and only when the audition date grew near did I start to get nervous.
"Do they really audition kids?" I ask. "Or are they really just checking for acceptable content?"
"Oh no, they really audition them." one of the more seasoned moms with older children replied.
I couldn't really wrap my head around this because 1. These kids are 5 and 6 years old. 2. They are really cute. 3. They may not be the world's best dancers, but did I tell you they were cute?
Auditions were RIDICULOUS. The group ahead of us was a third grade contingent of can-can dancers in fishnet stockings. (I am SO NOT kidding. I didn't even know fishnets came in such a small size). Their hair was professionally styled, and I watched their curls bob up and down as they nodded their head at their very professional choreographer's pep talk. Next to them was a group of 5th grade boys- all dressed as Michael Jacksons- in wigs, short pants and bedazzled socks. We were in very, very big trouble.
The audition wasn't great. They were cute, but the girls forgot half of their choreography and kind of stood there like a kindergarten amobea, gaping at the judges. The judges sat behind a table, scribbling notes- and I suddenly felt like I was on a rejected version of "American Idol."
We got word on Monday that our kids wouldn't be on the list of accepted acts. The judges agreed to give the kids one more chance, and are letting them have 2 more weeks to try and get their act together. (both literally and figuratively).
We got together today, and rallied in the kitchen. We needed new choreography. Our teenage coaches weren't cutting it- and none of us were Bob Fosse material. You do know I danced like Elaine at the Bellagio, right?
Suddenly, I remembered something. "Did any of you see Daisy Duck do that dance on the "Mickey Mouse Club?" I asked.
The other moms looked at me like I had been smoking too much of Goofy's hash. "You know! Jump Forward, Jump Back, March March March. Slide to this side- Slide to the other side!" I explain. I borrow an umbrella from a 5 year old girl, and start to dance it for them.
The kids are now doing a modified dance routine stolen from a cartoon. Take that, you Hollywood bitches.