The sets of NYCB's production were mouth-wateringly beautiful (the second half is set in a candyland), but we didn't endure any sticky fingers from all the sweets, though someone backstage at my daughter's production assuredly did. While I was volunteering my time, applying full faces of makeup, smoothing hair into buns, and making sure that costumes were perfectly presented, one evening a sticky-fingered individual swiped my bag, dumping its contents (all intact, minus my lipsticks in the interior pocket) out into the ballet parking lot.
While I was relieved to have my paperwork back (I didn't look forward to renewing my permanent resident status under the circumstances, cancelling cheques or credit cards), the experience left, shall we say, a sour taste.
*My darling younger daughter says that she never wants to see a Nutcracker ever again; nor does she ever want to hear its music; she's done. I will find something just for her; here's hoping Lady Gaga will play in New York this summer . . .