Wicked.

Yesterday I invited H to go rifling through my closet to find a dress to wear for when her Daddy took her out to dinner and then to see a performance of Wicked. Seeing as she is now, at 11, taller than her Grandma (she really outgrew Grandma when she was 10, we did the comparison last Thanksgiving), I figured it was worth a shot. Sure enough, we found one that fit. Admittedly the hem was only a bare inch off the ground, but she looked very nice and not a bit like she was a little girl playing dress up in her Mommy's clothes.

I stayed home, because C is far too young and loud and wiggly to take to the theatre.

S stayed home because she isn't that interested in live performances; she finds movies and animation more visually interesting. She told me last night that she didn't feel left out by Daddy only taking H, she just missed having her sister around since she wanted to watch a movie with her.

I love live performance. Stage performances speak to something deep inside me, and I find them far more satisfying than any TV show or movie, no matter how high the production values.

I figure in about 6 years, I'll get to start going to these things, too. Since my youngest is already 6 years old, I figure the time will go by in about two blinks of an eye anyway.