I'll open this shambles of a blog by recounting the first public performance by my 2 year old boy - The Sprite of Fury - this weekend at the church where he goes to pre-school. As anyone who has kids, especially toddlers, will tell you, any kind of organised activity is up for grabs. Its a roll of the dice whether the kids will comply at the best of times, a complete and utter tantrum-fest at the worst of them. Needless to say, our expectations for our first public performance were pretty close to nil. If our little Sprite even managed to get on stage, that would be success as far as we were concerened. Joining in the singing or dancing would be gravy.
Now, my kid is EXTREMELY attached to me. We bonded a little too well when he was an infant, and now it is near impossible for me to be out of his direct line of sight. This is even more true on the weekends when I am his play-thing for the whole day. "No daddy work" he reminds me several times each Saturday and Sunday. "Not today" I reply. In The Sprite's mind, No Daddy Work is better defined as No Daddy Do Anything Else But Carry, Play or Otherwise Entertain Me. It definitely does not include taking him to a strange place filled with strange people, leave him on stage seperated from his parents, to prance around like a gleeful nativity sheep.
So when we indeed took him to the strange place (the church sanctuary) filled with strange people (100 or so parents and kids from the church and school), and left him with his teacher to go up on stage, seperated from me, it did not quite jive with his interpretation of No Daddy Work. From the cluster of toddlers at the front of the stage, above the jingling of bells and general hubub, cries of "daddydaddydaddy" could be heard above all else.
Great.
Mrs Electric Mommy and I looked at each other expecting to be leaving VERY soon, with nary a prance ever taking place. Not wishing to look like the failure, we left the Wee Sprite to tantrum out on someone elses watch for a change. It must be said that he was not the sole cry-baby of the bunch. There were at least 2 other kids that were objecting to the situation, one of whom had to be removed from the scene post-haste. Now, whatever the teachers/guardians were doing down there, they managed to calm the Sprite from his rage, forget that Daddy was out of eye-sight, and get him to take his place on the stage.
There was a row of older kids, 6-7 year olds, standing and the pre-schoolers were sat in front with the teachers. They were handed bells to use as musical props for the rendition of Jingle Bells about to get under way. But The Sprite was in no mood for waiting around. His bells were a-jingling the moment he got on stage. And he took a liking to the spotlight, front and center, big and bold. He spent the first song, Away In a Manger, jingling his bells and encouraging his stage-mates to jingle along with him. By the time they got to the second song, Jingle Bells, he was doing the moves to the first song, and some new, interpretive moves of his own design. By the end of the third song,he was face down on the stage, head and shoulders hanging off the edge, precipitously about to fall ass over tit off the edge of the stage. And when the crowd bestowed great applause upon him, he joined them and bestowed more upon himself, with great yelps of "Yay!"
It was an effort to get him out of the spotlight and off the stage once his small part of the show was over.
Needless to say, I was about as proud as a parent could be. He was a clown, a fool, an exhibitionist. Just like his old man. This was the richest gravy we could have hoped for. A life of showbiz surely awaits. He got over his seperation anxiety and the night was a success. Except for one small downer. Our expectations were so low, I neglected to bring my video camera. His inaugural performance will be eventually lost to the fog of alzheimers, with not one pixel recorded to remember the event. But, now, I am confident there will certainly be a next time. And The Sprite of Fury will flail and gyrate again to the delight of the audience.
Now, my kid is EXTREMELY attached to me. We bonded a little too well when he was an infant, and now it is near impossible for me to be out of his direct line of sight. This is even more true on the weekends when I am his play-thing for the whole day. "No daddy work" he reminds me several times each Saturday and Sunday. "Not today" I reply. In The Sprite's mind, No Daddy Work is better defined as No Daddy Do Anything Else But Carry, Play or Otherwise Entertain Me. It definitely does not include taking him to a strange place filled with strange people, leave him on stage seperated from his parents, to prance around like a gleeful nativity sheep.
So when we indeed took him to the strange place (the church sanctuary) filled with strange people (100 or so parents and kids from the church and school), and left him with his teacher to go up on stage, seperated from me, it did not quite jive with his interpretation of No Daddy Work. From the cluster of toddlers at the front of the stage, above the jingling of bells and general hubub, cries of "daddydaddydaddy" could be heard above all else.
Great.
Mrs Electric Mommy and I looked at each other expecting to be leaving VERY soon, with nary a prance ever taking place. Not wishing to look like the failure, we left the Wee Sprite to tantrum out on someone elses watch for a change. It must be said that he was not the sole cry-baby of the bunch. There were at least 2 other kids that were objecting to the situation, one of whom had to be removed from the scene post-haste. Now, whatever the teachers/guardians were doing down there, they managed to calm the Sprite from his rage, forget that Daddy was out of eye-sight, and get him to take his place on the stage.
There was a row of older kids, 6-7 year olds, standing and the pre-schoolers were sat in front with the teachers. They were handed bells to use as musical props for the rendition of Jingle Bells about to get under way. But The Sprite was in no mood for waiting around. His bells were a-jingling the moment he got on stage. And he took a liking to the spotlight, front and center, big and bold. He spent the first song, Away In a Manger, jingling his bells and encouraging his stage-mates to jingle along with him. By the time they got to the second song, Jingle Bells, he was doing the moves to the first song, and some new, interpretive moves of his own design. By the end of the third song,he was face down on the stage, head and shoulders hanging off the edge, precipitously about to fall ass over tit off the edge of the stage. And when the crowd bestowed great applause upon him, he joined them and bestowed more upon himself, with great yelps of "Yay!"
It was an effort to get him out of the spotlight and off the stage once his small part of the show was over.
Needless to say, I was about as proud as a parent could be. He was a clown, a fool, an exhibitionist. Just like his old man. This was the richest gravy we could have hoped for. A life of showbiz surely awaits. He got over his seperation anxiety and the night was a success. Except for one small downer. Our expectations were so low, I neglected to bring my video camera. His inaugural performance will be eventually lost to the fog of alzheimers, with not one pixel recorded to remember the event. But, now, I am confident there will certainly be a next time. And The Sprite of Fury will flail and gyrate again to the delight of the audience.
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