I can’t say too much about the eldest’s year 6 formal because she’s a private little/big thing.
She would be horrified if I revealed too much.
So I’ll just skirt around the edges … and confess I cried my eyes out at the end.
But let’s start at the beginning.
She wore a 5th Doctor Who-inspired dress. I painted her nails that Chanel red-black colour that was all the rage about eight years ago.
The formal featured a Hollywood theme: lots of sparkly lights and gold balloons. Some of the school dads wore tattoo sleeves and pretended to be bouncers, lining the red carpet that lead to the hall. They looked awesome.
The kids looked pretty awesome too, all freshly scrubbed and frocked up.
At 6pm, they bolted into the hall and the parents boled across the road to drink champagne and nibble grilled prawns at the local cafe.
Some amazing school mums missed out on the drinks, heading to the canteen to cook a three-course meal for 140 kids and teachers instead.
Heaps of teachers attended, not just the year 6 ones. It was sooooooo lovely that so many cared enough to be there out of school hours. We are very lucky.
At 8pm, parents were invited into the hall to watch a video of moments from the kids’ primary school years. The school did this gorgeous thing where they showed a photograph of every kid in kindy, then flipped it to one of them in year 6.
(A school mum sitting beside me during the preso asked who my child was … I nodded towards the eldest … she asked what my child’s name was … I told her … she looked a bit shocked and I realised she thought the eldest, with her shaved hair was a boy – albeit an extremely gorgeous one – with a very girly name … I explained she was a girl … the woman looked even more shocked and said she looked like she was 17 … I’m hoping it was the champagne talking.)
At the end of the presentation, there was a parent and (reluctant) kid dance session then everyone tottered off into the night, armed with a piece of paper, rolled and tied with curling ribbon.
I opened it and inside was a letter from our daughter, thanking us for always supporting her and listening.
She also thanked me for being firm and not killing the dogs when they barked too much. Hmmmm.
But the bit that made me blub was when she thanked both of us for “creating so many of my happy memories.”
Just typing those words makes me wail all over again.
We did good.
Just a few photos from the night …