Wee One in the Audience

My mother called me one day and asked me how I thought the Wee One would do at a play.

Seriously?

Yes, she was serious.

I gave her my honest opinion.  "Um, she'll cry, scream, throw a tantrum, want to walk around, talk or otherwise be disruptive, and can we revisit this conversation in 4 years?"

Apparently not.  My mother, being the woman of faith that she is, truly believes that All Things Are Possible.  And that includes getting a 20-month-old to appreciate the theatre.

It should be hereditary, you know.  My mother was in theater in high school and did some amateur stuff as an adult.  I was in theater in high school, and have wanted to keep those memories intact so I stay as far away from the stage as humanly possible as an adult.

So, again, my mother calls me.  A local Dinner Theater establishment is having a children's oriented show, Christmas in Candyland.  Santa will be there, the show is only an hour with no intermissions, it's kid-oriented, let's go!

I was all like "are you freaking serious?"

She continues, "we'll sit near an exit, if she gets restless, one of us can walk out with her for a bit, then come back in ...".  I see visions of me spending an entire show walking the Wee One around the lobby.  Fun.

I begin to relent.  She calls for ticket information, which is really code for: she calls to BUY tickets.

Her:  Here's the schedule, the buffet is at 12:00, the show is at 1:00 ...

Me: What?  That's the middle of naptime.  So not only are we going to expect a child who can't even sit still for a meal at a restaurant to sit through a meal AND a show, we're going to do it when the child should normally be SLEEPING?

But then I realized that she had bought the tickets.  And I realized I was being unreasonable.  I realized that even if the whole thing went horribly awry, it wasn't my money.  And I realized the whole thing would make them both very very happy.

So I said yes.

Then I worked like hell to get the kid to sleep at 10:30 in the morning (luckily it was one of those up-at-the-crack-of-dawn mornings) so I could get her up, dressed, and out the door by noon.

And you know what?

She was a Superstar.  Super Rock Star.  She was awesome. 

She ate chicken nuggets and bread off the buffet, and drank her milk.

She got to go down to the center of the theater to see the stage, and get her picture taken.

Oh, she was a little afraid of Santa once he got close. 

Yes, one of the reindeer lost his head.  Tragic.



Then she sat through the whole show!  She kept putting her head on my shoulder like she does at nighttime when I turn the lights down - apparently our bedtime routine has her brainwashed into wanting to go to sleep whenever it gets dark.  But she watched the whole show, and she loved it!

(totally not admitting to being wrong tho, so don't even ask!)