The Show Must Go On

Today was a significant day in Beatrice's life, as at the tender age of 3 1/2 she undertook her first exam.  So how does one prepare for such an event?

Well begin the day correctly.  No, not with porridge for breakfast, rather have Josie and Phoebe to play.  (You of course understand that that really means Josie, although Phoebe may be permitted to hold a Polly Pocket Aurora and sing "Once upon a dream").  I was informed, albeit with a questioning tone as I hoovered in preparation of this visitation that "Josie and I are going to make a big mess Mummy".  I am not sure whether this was a covert seeking of approval or simply a statement of fact.  Either way, Bea held true to her word when I ventured upstairs in the afternoon.

Our bedroom

Bea's bedroom

But back to the topic, "the exam"!  Bea was dressed in her dance uniform, regulation red leotard (which I put on the right way round unlike one of the other silly Mummys - whose error was pointed out by Gillian with instructions to remedy the situation) red dance skirt (Bea's second this year as I discovered that you really shouldn't iron them....unfortunately I discovered this about 45 minutes before her Christmas show) and "whiter than white" ballet tights with a seam down the back.  As per instructions she was wearing a zip up top and no dabitees.  Equipped with a backpack of dance shoes and hair grips we set out.  We had been given clear instructions to arrive at least 20 minutes before the 3pm time of Bea's exam, and as we slotted Florence into the last parking space at the town hall, we high fived our perfect timing.  The bun (another stipulation - as was the absence of a fringe) was hastily constructed in the foyer and initially didn't look half bad.  (Thankfully, you can't see the bad half)  It managed to defy gravity with the co operation of half a can of hairspray.

Buns R Us

Unfortunately, Bea was not summonsed to dance for "the lady" immediately, so the bun and clipped up fringe did not endure.  The "free styling" with Isla and wrestling with Max put paid to that!

I was very nervous that Bea would be seized by nerves when presented to "the lady" but as Gillian brought her downstairs after the tap part of her exam (a few clips lighter) she was keen to demonstrate what she showed the lady.  I vaguely resembled dancing and she was not traumatised (hooray).  Anyway, during the brief (30 minute) wait for the modern dancing part of the exam (heaven help us all!) disaster struck!!!!  Or rather DS struck.  


Bea had ventured beyond the cultish limits of "people connected to Glengormley Methodist" to talk to another little girl.  When I last saw her through the forest of legs, she was sitting with said little girl, who was playing with a DS.  I averted my eyes to ensure that Miss Evie's smile was megawatt (it was) when Bea deposited herself on my lap in tears with blood dripping from her mouth.  The almost clean tissue of healing was applied and Bea sobbed until Gillian called her for the next part of her exam.  I cannot fill in the blanks without witnesses, but I imagine that Bea showed rather too much interest in the DS which was then applied to her mouth.  Anyhow, the consummate professional, she ascended the stairs into the hallowed hall of the dance exam, with a tear stained face, blood smear on her arm and a probably a bloody mouth too.


Who can predict what the outcome will be?  I care not.  I am just so delighted that she did it!  The only scars left from her first exam are physical and not emotional.  (JOKING - she is fine)


So we concluded the evening with a little bit of dog rodeo and a movie.