Going into it, I felt the evening would end in a blog post. My first school play. Well, not my first play - Zach's first play. He's five. He played the very demanding role of a hedgehog in the chorus. Some of the time, he looked at the audience and sang. Sometimes, he picked his cuticles. He'd look around quite often, perhaps trying to spot me or dad in the audience. He did some of the arm movements in unison with his classmates, but not all the time. His headpiece was on sideways, obscuring one of his carefully made up hedgehog eyes. At the start of the night, I'd been ready with figurative sharp pen poised in imaginary hand to make fun of him and all the kids. But, he was fantastic.
We were super proud of our little hedgehog. He behaves like a wild animal sometimes at home, so we knew he could pull the characterisation off to a tee. He was excellent at filing on stage and taking his place; and then following the teacher off the stage again at the end. He’s got a future in the theatre: Cleaning it or building them or painting them, something like that.
He looked so precious in his costume. I had to make the outfit. Correction: I commissioned my friend to make the outfit, 'cause I don't know how to sew or even cut a straight line. The outfit was lovely. However, there were four other hedgehogs all in identical outfits they'd clearly sourced from somewhere, and I thought: why didn't the other mothers tell me about these? Because, Lory, you never talk to the other mothers. It isn't snobbery - I just don't know them. I smile shyly at pick up times in the afternoon, hoping one of the mothers will say something to me. I must make it a point to start going to the monthly school committee meetings in order to 1. Contribute and 2. Get to know these women. I'm not looking forward to this further infringement into my precious little writing time, but it'll have to be done. Otherwise, next show Zach will be the odd hedgehog out, again.