Last weekend we attended PK's first ever dance recital.
The fact that we as a society may be overindulging our kids to the extreme was exemplified by the walking florist shop that made it's way down to the stage during the finale of the recital.
As each class entered from stage right, parents, friends, extended family members, personal acquaintances, and many, many others flooded the aisles with smiles on their faces, gift bags, finely wrapped presents and floral arrangements of every size and shape in their arms.
We had been warned ahead of time that the "post-performance congratulatory presenting of the gift" carnage would be resolute and that any dancer not receiving at least the minimal of floral tokens for their evenings performance could/would result in some pretty hurt little faces.
However, we were completely unprepared for the seemingly utter lack of financial and material restrain displayed by the decent, hard-working, and normally sensible folk of my small town and the surrounding communities whose children attend the dance school.
I half expected a parent to drive-up "My Super Sweet 16" style in an AMG Benz or Lexus coupe (okay, out here it would have been a fully loaded Silverado or F150, but you get the gist) and hand the keys over to their darling dancing daughter.
Enough ranting, since I know you want to know what we presented PK with for her dancerly efforts that night.
A bouquet of silk roses S picked up at Dollar General, tied together with a fuzzy red ribbon (velour) that completely matched the color of her outfit and hair-bob-tie-thingy.
She was thrilled, and even gave them a good whiff while parading around the stage.
Score one for the pragmatic parent in all of us....
Not so fast, buster.
We may have just lucked out this time around...it being her very first recital ever.
Next year may be a completely different beast and I'll be the one hypocritically rushing around the state looking for a particular out-of-season bouquet of roses that matches her outfit to a T.
Since that evenings performance, I've since almost completely run out of hope. For the last dozen or so times that I've replayed the DVD of the video that I shot of her dancing that night, she inevitably questions me on why I didn't get her anything -- why only Mommy got her something.