We went to the Nutcracker ballet today for maybe the 14th time since my children were born. The first year my mom took us – my eldest was four and whispered in a really loud voice
“Is it real?”
and that is what it is when ballet or any art form is really good. It transports you. It takes you out of the world you live in and transports you to a safe place where glittery snow falls, and angels dance on tippy toes and
perfect specimen of men wear really, really, tight tights.
When I was a little girl my mom would take me every Christmas as well. We would dress up and sometimes go out for lunch downtown. Maybe my grandmothers would come or a little friend of mine. It was an annual tradition.
That is until the year I discovered the tights of amazing tightness on those men.
I could not see anything but the tights
I tried but could not see past them. I stared big time at the bulge.
And then my little friend and I giggled uncontrollably at the men in tight tights throughout the entire first act and then my mom separated us and we fell to our knees laughing hysterically and rolling around on the floor as everyone around us shhhhhhhh’d us angrily.
We never went back.
Until I had my own children and now of course I don’t laugh hysterically or stare at the bulge ….too much.
I just smile
and wonder ahem “Is it real?”