When I sit down to play, the two little girls have already finished their desserts of chocolate mousse.
Now hyped up on sugar, they are twirling and dancing between tables, their mothers clearly more interested in the rich gossip they are sharing over champagne, than the safety of their children in a crowded dining room.
When the girls twirl over to the piano, they stop and stare.
I think that it suddenly dawns on them where their dance music is coming from.
Which makes me giggle inside, just a little.
So I ask, “Did you just see Cinderella?”
They nod in unison.
“What was your favorite part?”
All of a sudden, two very shy faces burst into a frenzied explanation of how Cinderella twirls and twirls, then the magic makes the dress fancy for the party.
“Do you remember what Cinderella was singing when that happens?”
The girls look confused, but as I fill the silence with a song that suggests that it’s possible for a plain yellow pumpkin to become a golden carriage, they smile again, beginning to twirl and twirl away.
And I giggle out loud.
It’s possible sometimes for bitter old queens to find joy again with the right princesses.