Yesterday was piano recital day. We've been practicing for months. I don't know why I said "we." The Cowgirl has been practicing. I've been enduring the practicing. I mean enjoying. She is actually really good. When she stops making the keyboard sound like a harpsichord or trumpets or Gregorian chanters and just plays the piano it sounds great.
But I digress. Recital. Twelve children. One piano. Nervous parents. But no one was as nervous as my Cowgirl. She stopped talking about an hour before showtime and only answered with terse nods. By the time she stood up and took her place at the piano she looked like a brave heroine about to walk the plank- stiff chin, terrified eyes and all.
And then, despite our every reassurance, it happened- she played the wrong chord. Her chin started to shake. Her eyes started to tear.
Every other child made a few mistakes or started over or lost their place and smiled in embarrassment and soldiered on. My child- not so much.
She expects so much out of herself. And if she does everything perfectly, she considers herself just adequate. It's ironic how some of the best people I know are the ones who feel like they just don't stack up. And some of the not-greatest people I know feel pretty snazzy about themselves. Just ironic.
Luckily, the Cowgirl has a sister.
And luckily her sister came wrapped in sunshine and smiles to brighten up our lives when we take ourselves too seriously. She stood guard while the Cowgirl sobbed, patted her head, occasionally tried to get a peek at her wet face- but no luck. That girl was hunkered down for over 40 minutes!