You Can Stop The Music.

I don't really want to talk about our tap performance last weekend. I don't even really want to think about it. I'll just keep telling myself that I was juggling a lot of stuff lost week (2 big parties at our house, a trip away) and stop beating myself up about not being more thorough with my technical preparation. I swear the cd burner on my computer used to work. And I thought I'd done the right thing by bringing my memory stick and a blank cd to the airport so my sister could burn the cd for me with her laptop; which she did, easy-peasy. But we were about to rush off to catch the flight to Launceston so neither of us thought to check the wretched thing and I couldn't check it when I got back to Melbourne the next day because my computer is spazzing about reading cds and our actual cd players at home are so old that they don't reliably read perfectly good burned cds anyway. And I couldn't find my ipod output cord anywhere - I looked, I did! - and I didn't think hoping the techies at the festival would have an input jack was in the realms of hopeless fantasy. And whilst in hindsight I could have brought along a previously burned cd to at least cover the songs the children would dance to, I just didn't have my act together enough to do that. I have to stop thinking about it now, it's done, we coped, I can't change it. I especially won't think about how cranky and embarrassed the whole thing made Fixit (Mister Glass-Half-Empty, always sees the worst) and how him letting me know how mortified he was and how hopeless he thought I was tainted all the goodwill our romantic trip away generated.



So I'm just going to think about how beautifully all my little dancers rose to the challenge of tapping without their music, how the children looked up at me with smiling, shiny faces and did everything I asked so beautifully and looked like they had a good time. And how my brave Tap-pets (the grown-ups) did their stuff a'cappella on a stage as slippery as ice, and gladdened my heart with the way they worked with me and carried it off as though that was how it was planned in the first place. I'm only going to think about how nice everyone was to me about it afterwards, and not think about what they must have thought of me as they were being so nice.

Because that's how we roll in Glass Half Full Land.