brava

So I was late to Sophie's orchestra concert. Luckily, the 5th graders played first and then a bunch of them left, with their families in tow, so I scooted down the aisle and sat down with Sophie's mama and stepdad and big (as in my age big) brother. Her dad and stepmom were there, too. The kid's got a village, man. It's particularly entertaining when we all show up for back-to-school night. Anyway.

Did I mention she's first chair violin? Hmmmm, why, yes, I did! Did you know that means she was the concertmaster? Do you know what the concertmaster does? She walks in after the rest of the orchestra is seated and they all stamp their feet (and we, the ever-adoring audience, clap) and she bows, to us, the ever-adoring audience, and then turns and plays her A string (I could be making this part up, as I have no idea what the hell goes on with a violin) and then the rest of the orchestra plays their A string, or whatever, and then she sits down and the concert starts. At least, that's what a concertmaster does at her school. The bow was quick and to the point, but, oh the poise once she turned around to give that first note to the orchestra. Amazing. And she was lovely. So, so beautiful with her hair pulled back just at the top and her skirt "with a chain," as she puts it and tiny black flats. Cute, yes, because she still little enough that doing something as adult as playing in an orchestra is cute, but also beautiful, like young girls are as you see them come into themselves.