Annabelle squeezed out a few tears at bedtime last night. I couldn’t blame her — I wanted to cry, too.

Snow Queen was over.

This was her third year appearing on a big stage in downtown Phoenix, in the city’s alternative to the Nutcracker. Her second (and almost certainly last) year as a rosebud, which she and I agree is the best role. She was cranky about rehearsals, nervous about going on stage, bored waiting for  curtain calls.

And beyond ecstatic about the whole thing.

Saturday night — still only halfway through the four shows, happily in the midst of the whole thing — we left the theater late. She pulled the big stage door open ahead of me, and said something so quietly I didn’t quite catch it.

“I feel….”

“Cranky? Grumpy?” I asked, sighing. “Hungry?” All would have been perfectly acceptable.

No, she answered.

“I feel proud.”

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