I passed a parental milestone last night. I took our oldest daughter to see Disney Princesses on Ice. It was awesome. Minus the three spills the "actors" took on the ice (an especially un-graceful tumble by Jasmine's Aladdin was one. Not sure how well the honeymoon will go after that one.) Tinkerbell's bottom was introduced to the ice as well. And yet she managed to still not lose her sparkle and bounce. Luckily, I don't think a single little person in the room even noticed. Unfortunately for the actors, falls are my comedic bread and butter. I live for them and laugh at them. Always.
E. and I got to enjoy a tub of popcorn, an enormous soft drink, and a package of licorice. All without sharing with the boys. My first mistake was at intermission when I foolishly stood in line with the intention of buying E. a princess wand that "spun." The kids around us all had one. Naturally, she wanted one. So, here we stood 10 deep in line while 1 guy (albeit incredibly talented and fast) waited on all 100 people in line. I scanned the merchandise until I spotted the wand...and the $22 price tag. Are you serious?? I stealthily backed out of line and explained that we would go to Target and I would buy her one there...for less "monies." Of course, she handled that news like the consummate professional that she is...she screamed her fool head off and dangled off my leg, begging. The only consolation being that I wasn't the only parent there with a child hanging off an appendage, sobbing and begging for something.
So...I piggy-legged her back to our seat and managed to calm her down. We watched the second half with Cinderella. E. was adorable. She laughed, clapped, and yelled hello to everyone. The lights came up and my little cherub's smile turned right back upside down. She resumed screaming and crying while I dragged her up the 542 cement steps to the lobby (the only down-side to having terrific seats so close to the ice.)I dragged her through the lobby, to the exit (naturally it was the furthest one from where I was sitting.)Much to many people's chagrin, she blubbered the entire elevator ride. It went something like this: "Pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeease get meeeeeeeee the waaaaaaaand! *hiccup* Pleeeeeeeeeeeease get meeeeeeeeee the waaaaaaaaaaaaaand!*sniff, sniff*" I tried to act as casually and as normal as possible, but that's hard to when you have a small, snotting, boogery little person hanging from you in the dead-weight-tantrum-throwing position.
I threatened her as much as I could with my eyes while giving that ha-ha-kids-will-be-kids half hearted smile and shrug. We made it to the garage, waited in line until it was time for her to start college and paid our ticket. Then we wandered around for about a half an hour in the cold parking garage, looking for our car. We searched avery corner, trying hard not to be obvious that I was totaly lost. I got the knowing smile from several people anyway. Finally, the Lord had pity on me and reminded me that I parked one level up. We stepped off the elevator and *eureka* there was the van.
Thankfully, the ride home was uneventful. We made it. Our next trip...the circus. With all the kids. This should be interesting. We'll have to remember to take out a second mortgage and break into our Roth IRA for all the kiddie