"J'aime les couleurs de l'arc-en-ciel,Bleu, blanc, rouge, vert, jaune, orange."
Tiny little people marching down the isle in pig costumes; cowboy hats & boots, and in my daughter's case, a flower head-dress. It was bedtime when the concert began, and it was entirely too late when it concluded. All the little ones were either dragging their feet, or jittery and unmanageable. . . but it was just so cute.
They sang to zippy music, lagging far behind the beat; their voices tuneless in an effort to shout out the words. They recited poems and did little dances. I LOVED the kid who ignored his classmates and wobbled out his very own moves on stage that strongly resembled the Macarena.
Caelah's class was the very last to perform. She sang and danced her heart out. I could hear her voice above the others because I know it so well, and because I was listening for it. She waved happily to us from the stage several times. And we waved back to our little green flower.
