here's one way we could talk about it:

Rose looked lovely. She asked me to do two French braids for her. I learned how to French braid last week, so my technique is not so swift, but I muddled through. I was happy to do it for her. The recital was in a lovely church in a section of Seattle cut off from time. It's a gated community which must have strong rules about not cutting down the trees because you drive a winding road through a forest to this little chapel. Sunny day. Well scrubbed children. Eager efforts. Rose was nervous and mostly didn't show it. She made a couple mistakes which no one else noticed. It was a good experience.

or we could talk about it this way:

When I thought about the drawbacks of being a parent I didn't think about poopy diapers or pacing the halls with an infant screaming in my ears (I should have!). No, I thought of the school recital. I dreaded boring simplistic music played badly by small children. I dreaded the long pause as they hunted for the notes. I should have dreaded two hours of managing a younger sibling in a room where every whisper echoed, and feet kept kicking the pew in front. And lo it has come to pass. Rose was the second to last performer in a 1.5 hour performance. David only let me take him out of the room for 20 minutes. Think of it like being stuck on an airplane where you have to be absolutely silent with a five-year-old, and someone keeps demanding you pay attention to bad music poorly played. I may be indulging in a wee bit of hyperbole, but if I can't get out of it, next time I'm going to play solitaire on my iphone (like John did) and leave David at home.