Real Praise

Me, to Daughter: Well, you look aDORable.
Daughter, irked: I'm not "adorable," like a puppy or a kitty.
Me: Fair enough.
Daughter: But I am adorable like a leaf that blows.

Talent Show

We have been picking ourselves up this week after the Big Birthday Bash last weekend. There's frosting on the blades of the ceiling fans... Oh, the horror. (But a great time was had by all!)

This week's dilemma: the talent show. Which used to be called the school lip synch, but one of the co-organizers this year whose daughter plays the violin finally put in her vote for some actual talent, which is both a relief and a gauntlet.

My kids are undeniably cute and talented. But what talent, exactly, translates to 3 minutes of stage time? "I could skate, and juggle," suggested Son, which would solve the problem beautifully if he could do either of those things already let alone at the same time and in front of an audience.

Lately, if I hush him he quotes somone from Jimmy Neutron: "You have silenced a great talent!" which is funny, but (wince) untrue.

Meanwhile, Son has been anxious about auditioning for the fall show. I pointed out that his father could teach him how to audition: it wasn't something he had to just know how to do. So we settled on a twofer: learn a short audition piece, and perform it for the talent show. His little sister has gamely agreed to be a sidekick, with just one question: "Who will be bossing us?" "Your father. And it's directing."

It's no violin solo, but it'll do.

Well, That Complicates Things

Daughter had a wonderful Christmas Polar-Express-style dream that she firmly believes actually happened ("it was a awesome night").

In it, Santa collected her from our house by sleigh, then flew to the school to collect two of her best friends, and then returned her to the house. She was sleepy when he first arrived, but then woke up. Along the way, she discovered:

* Rudolph does not have a red nose, but a white one (it glows)
* His nose is in fact tiny
* Oddly, he flies in the rear of the formation and not in front
* And so do the rest of the reindeer (ie. behind the sleigh)
* Santa doesn't come down chimneys at all! The whole roof just dissolves off the house! So the reindeer can come in too! Because he's magic! He knows what you're thinking!

At the end of the ride, Santa put two gifts into her hands (wrapped in pink paper with Barbies on them: "he noticed that I like pink").

How to:
* tactfully not refer to it as a dream, let alone an abduction
* tactfully explain that Santa was being kind in putting the reindeer in back. Oats give them gas, and while Santa is used to it, three little girls might not be
* explain why her brother wasn't invited: perhaps it was a five year old thing, especially for five year olds?
* get some pink wrapping paper with barbies on it at this late hour? Because, as daughter also explained: "tomorrow and tomorrow after that it's Christmas!"

Shakespeare in Love

So Midsummer Night's Dream was gorgeous, in every respect. My two carried themselves beautifully, bien sur! Daughter and her BFF, another 5 year old, wooed and won the audience easily. Son was on stage a bit more as the changeling boy, and also did well. We (I, and mom of daughter's BFF) spent the first three of the four productions (and all rehearsals) in the green room, getting the Rosencrantz and Guildenstern view of the production. It was lovely to be out front and actually see it all from the flip side. It was great spectacle.

And now, we have bona fide theater brats. This minute, they are creating a three-ringed circus, in PJs. Daughter is tech designer and props manager. She has taped elaborate cutouts from construction paper to the legs of chairs tipped upside down. Son has balloons, and a stick. He is trying to kick balloons from a handstand position. He says all he needs now is a hula hoop, and fire, and he'll have a ring of flame... I think they are applause junkies, but have locked away all sources of fire.

And a thank you to wonderful teachers: Mrs G, the kindergarten teacher of our two five year olds (and both their older brothers) who came on Friday night and stayed to adore them for ages after the show, which is why we adore her too; Mrs S and Mrs T, the second- and fourth- grade teachers of both brothers, who also came and were generous with their time. The kids felt so proud to have their own comp tickets to bestow, and felt even prouder when their teachers came. Thank you so much for giving so much!

Break a leg!

There is much glitter in our household as both children are cast (I use that term loosely, since hubby is the director) in the main stage production of Midsummer Night's Dream. They are: Changeling boy and Spring fairy. They have: big hair, much hairspray and glitter, much body paint, and amazing costumes. They are: excited (they did the high school production this morning, but it's opening night tonight...) and exhausted. Their hair is still up from this morning's production, and they are flitting around in the in-betweenness of shows, bestowing glitter around the house. Despite daughter's horror the first time someone told her "break a leg," they are by now green room regulars, and as bored with makeup and hair routines as the most seasoned actors. Spring fairy did just break Changeling boy's glasses a few minutes ago, and when I asked her "are you injured?" (after checking on son) cried: "no, but I'm huuuuuurt!" in a more "unstrung" than "spring" fairy-like way. A student this afternoon told me I had glitter under my nose. I shrugged. She said it kept catching the light. I thought: I have cool fairy boogers. Wait 'til I tell the kids!