Wild Thing

 Araceli, Araceli.  I say that a lot.  She is such a force of nature.  She has been a character these past few days.  Friday morning she was asked to play her cello in an orchestra recruiting assembly at a private school.  The cellist they had couldn't come, so it was last-minute.  Ari dressed to the nines and packed up all her music.  In the car, she looked the mirror and said, "Oh my goodness!  I need some lipstick!"  She was a riot.  Afterwards, she wanted a smoothie at McDonald's, but I told her stuff like that was only for special occasions.  She rolled her eyes and said, "Mom, this IS a special occasion.  I just played...AN ASSEMBLY!" Sometimes I wonder just how important Ari thinks she is.  My guess, on a scale of one to ten, at least an eleven.

That night, I took the big girls (Golda, Ruby, Lexie and Ari) to a Ballet West Curtain Up performance.  The other three girls have their own heart-stopping tale to tell about the night.  Ballet West's principal ballerina, Christiana Bennett, sat right in front of us with a group of other dancers.  The girls' faces displayed their extreme excitement in neon.  They were all lit up in a giddy daze at being so close to their idol.  Ruby even had a pointe shoe and a sharpie handy in her purse and asked for an autograph!

Araceli, on the other hand, was completely unfazed by the dancers' celebrity status.  She calmly pulled out her book and read until the lights went down.  When the lights dimmed, I looked over and little Mary Poppins with her magic carpet bag had produced a flashlight and was blithely continuing her reading as the show started.  I made her put it away and she settled in.  It was all new works choreographed by members of the corps, so some were a little avant garde.  The first dance was set to didgeridoo music and had a surreal tone.  Ari leaned over and whispered in a loud voice, "I don't get it." She would have been the first to point out that the emperor had no clothes, had she been a character in that fairy tale.

The next day, we had Nutcracker auditions.  The older girls had all gotten audition advice from their idol, Ms. Bennett, and were on overdrive trying to follow her sage words of wisdom to a tee.  Not Ari.  She packed her magic carpet bag with extra tights, leotards, band-aids and a water bottle, ordered me to do her hair and was ready to go.  As she jumped out of the car I said, "Wait!  Do you want me to put a little mascara on you?"  "Nah.  I have really long eyelashes, Mom.  And I made it last year, so..."  The implication hung in the air until she finally said, "Bye!"  Nerves?  Not an issue.

I saw Ari about a half-hour later when she had checked in and was in front of the judges.  I was the audition teacher.  I scanned the room and saw one girl with giant runs in both legs of her tights.  And really long eyelashes.  And the confidence of a prime minister. 

I was mortified.  Ari wasn't.  Did I tell you she had extra tights in her bag?  I don't get it!  It was an amazing, exciting, thrilling day for us all, except for Ari, who was like the very calm eye of a colorful storm throughout the audition and the rest of the day.  Results were posted at 9 PM.  Ari yawned and went to bed at 8:30, leaving the rest of us to agonize.  The next morning she asked, "Did I make Nutcracker?"

"Yes!"  I was so relieved and happy to share the good news.

No reaction.  Then she asked about her best friend.

"No, I'm sorry."

Ari's eyes filled up with tears.  She glared.  Her lip quivered.  She hung her head and went to her room.

I may never "get" this child.  I don't know how her mind works, but I don't have to.  She is wonderful and unique and unpredictable and I love her.  Nutcracker or no, she keeps us all on our toes.