We're at the traditional afternoon performance of The Nutcracker. It's a never-ending sea of red velvet, dresses with big bows in the back, white tights, and French braids. (Daniel and I are on the obligatory blue Oxford shirts.)
This is the fifth year we've gone to the show, but the first time that Elizabeth hasn't been in it. She enjoyed ballet, and loved being in the show, but we all agreed that the level of commitment required at her age was more than we could handle. Fortunately she hasn't expressed reservations about the choice.
Though she's not wearing velvet or a French braid. Maybe she was never THAT into it, really.