Daughter is a performer. At 10, she doesn't have doubts about her abilities. She can sing. She can dance. She can act. She can. There is no fear within her. Offer her a stage, and she will take it.
She joined a children's theatre group aimed directly at kids like her (and their ever-indulgent parents). It's called Broadway Bound Kids, and it takes a couple of hundred bucks from each of 150
kids parents suckers and stages musicals. Daughter has only done this twice, which makes her a bit of a newbie compared to some of the kids I know who are on their sixth or seventh or tenth show.
They rehearse one hour every Tuesday night for four or five months, and then they cram a tech week of rehearsals in leading up to oodles of performances over a three- or four-day period. Somehow, they pull it off. (I'm assuming the leads put in a bit more of rehearsal time than the background crowds do.)
Daughter's first show was Peter Pan, and she adored it. She made a point of bugging the director/producer/moneymaker over the course of several weeks for a speaking part, and she got it. Not a big part, but a "role" nonetheless.
This last show was High School Musical. Yeah, blech! I hate that movie. I hate that soundtrack. I hated the professional performance I saw not that long ago. Yeah, not a fan. But I am a fan of Daughter's, so I went. Twice.
The things we do for love. More specifically, the things I do for this love: