Pandora’s Box

Originally published on my Facebook page on May 25, 2019.

In all likelihood, the following scenario is frighteningly familiar to you:

DD or DS:  “Mom, I can’t find my ____!”

Exasperated DM (Dance Mom):  “Did you check in your bag?!”

DD or DS:  “Yeah, but it’s not in there!”

DM:  “UGH!  It’s gotta be. Let me see it.”

With a frustrated huff (because everyone is running late, and of course your child waits until the last minute to make sure they have all of their things), you grab the dance bag for a more thorough inspection.  You expect to locate the missing item in question within a few seconds, but are wholly unprepared for what you see when you unzip the bag.

The only way to accurately describe what you find inside would be “mountain of trash.”  As you pick through the contents, you become increasingly disgusted with each layer you uncover.  In the top layer (Subterranean Level One), there are crinkled, discarded papers from their notebooks.  

DM (agitated):  “Do you need these?!”

DD or DS (sheepishly):  “Um, yeah.”

DM (with angry puzzlement):  “Then WHY are they scrunched up like garbage?”

DD or DS (shrugging):  “I dunno.  They just got that way.”

After unearthing Level One, you strike Level Two.  Remember when your kid said that she was running out of ballet tights, and you were wondering if a black hole had formed between your house and the studio that had a curious appetite for children’s dance apparel?  Well, you’ve found it.  

DM (demanding):  “What the heck is this?  How many pairs of tights are in here?!”

DD (begins to count):  “One, two, three, four…”

DM (deciding this is not the time to explain what a rhetorical question is, but still ticked off nonetheless):  “UGH!  Never mind!”

As you start to pull the tights, one by one, out of the bag, you stifle the urge to gag.  Each one is dirtier than the last (seriously, how did KETCHUP get on this one?!).  And just when you think you’ve reached the last one, another unfurls itself.  You’re reminded of a magician pulling scarves out of a hat, except you would much rather be putting them back instead of taking them out.  And, ew, this last one is a little crusty.

With Level Two complete, you feel the despair of defeat creep in as you catch a glimpse of the next layer.  It would seem that Level Three is a conglomeration of empty Zip-loc bags filled with Cheez-It crumbs, empty granola bar wrappers, and discarded juice pouches (with just a hint of decades-old lemonade in them).  

DM (trying so hard not to lose what’s left of her composure):  “WHAT DID I TELL YOU about keeping FOOD and DRINKS in here?!”

DD/DS:  “Um…not to?”

DM:  “Then WHY am I finding GARBAGE in here?”  

DD/DS (looks down at floor, lips firmly zipped in shame)

At this time, a wise dance mom knows that she’s made her point, and there is no reason to tear into her kid like Christmas goose anymore.  So you feel the wind drain out of your sails, and resign yourself to the task of finishing the cleanout without getting angrier.  Somewhere down at the bottom of the bag (or what could more accurately be described as the belly of the beast), you find the missing item in a mound of bobby pins and hair elastics.  Since you’ve come this far, you figure that you might as well just go outside, turn the bag upside down, and watch as eighty pounds of crumbs and dirt fall into the grass. Some hungry ants immediately dash towards the pile, then abruptly do an about-face once they get a whiff of it.

With a defeated sigh, you half-heartedly remind your darling angel that the dance bag should be kept in better order, and you don’t want to see it in that state ever again.  But even as you say it, you know you’ll be right back here in a couple of months (if not weeks).  Because, you know, you’re a mom. We’ve seen it before, and Lord knows we’ll see it again (and again).

Until then, it’s best to keep Pandora’s Box out of sight and out of mind.

Work hard, have fun! – Danielle

For more dance bag nonsense, check out It’s a Dirty Job!