Merry Old Land of Oz

Mia's opening nights have easily turned into some of the highlights of my parenting experience.

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.  

 Finally, after threatening her within an inch of her life, she came out, streaked make-up and all.

 I don't care if this girl is too perceptive for her own good, she's the cutest darn Munchkin a person has ever seen.