Am I secretly living vicariously through my child? I refuse to answer that question.
Let's move on, shall we?
I can now take "learn to french braid in a circle" off of my bucket list.
This picture could not be more representative of their relationship. Mia may have found something she loves more than the theater.
Stage make-up: How can something so wrong look so right?
I'm the one squealing with delight.
To Oz (or rather to the only thing that will keep a bunch of 8-year-olds quiet backstage)!
After the show, in true diva fashion, she refused to leave her dressing room. She was sobbing because "the audience wasn't engaged." I wish I was kidding. Sometimes I think it would be nice to have a kid who was blissfully unaware of things eight-year-olds should not be aware of and was jumping for joy like the rest of the munchkins. Instead, I have Mia.