The ballet recital was the biggest waste of time in the history of the world. We arrived at the Blitz Institute at six thirty according to the program sent by Maya and Brooke’s school.
I waited for forty five minutes before the recital began.
After enduring a painful performance with a group of three young, nervous recorder players and then snoozing through the renditions of a small choir, I finally got to see Maya dance.
Well, ‘dance’ was probably too generous a word for the simple hop, skip, and turn that she and about thirteen other little girls delivered.
By the time I blinked, the performance was over. I couldn’t believe it. I’d spent twenty five bucks a pop on tickets to watch Maya hop around for five seconds?
Incensed, I clutched the black handlebars of the velvet seats and gla
