It’s polite to ask but we all know, as my friend, you have no choice. Participation is mandatory.
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Not that bad
As you sit in the audience with all the other proud parents you cant help but drift back to your ballet debut. Once a sugar plum fairy, always a sugar plum fairy.
Skimming through an old diary you land on page with a memory so clear it might as well be a picture. “Dear Diary, September 7, 2006…he kissed me.”
The faint sound of carolers in the distances as you and a loved take an evening stroll through the park.
10 PM. That was pretty late for a five year old. But there you were, every year, with all your siblings fighting a loosing battle against sleep. All so you could catch a glimpse of the man himself.
“All done!” you used to shout to Grandpa, proud that you’d poured all the eggnog without a spill. He’d look down at you with a smile and remind you, “Don’t forget the Nutmeg.”