Don't Quit Your Day Job

This afternoon, I experienced the joy that is Going To Your Kid's Recital.

Doodle and Scooby have spent the past year going to "drama" classes after school at the local community theatre. There, they practiced body language, stage presence, and improvisation. The idea is that your kid will get bitten by the acting bug and in turn, bug you to pay a few hundred dollars to let him or her audition for a bit part in the next production put on by the theatre company.

But for now, Doodle, who is nine, and Scooby, who is seven, have just been taking classes once a week. Normally, the babysitter picks them up from school and waits while they go to their respective classes. She's very hard of hearing, so she thinks all of the performances are great.

Today, though, the younger classes had their end of the year "recitals." These things happen in the middle of the day, so I banged out of work early to show my support.

Doodle's class acted out two Dr. Seuss plays, The Sneetches and The Lorax. Here's what I learned:

1. These plays rhyme. The words themselves apparently don't matter (because most of them were mumbled to the back of the stage), but it has a nice beat and you can dance to it.

2. These plays carry some sort of social message about consumerism and/or the environment. I'm not really sure what that message was exactly; see Lesson Number 1.

3. Doodle has a very loud voice. And he can recover quickly when he trips over stage props.

Now, Scooby's class was "Creative Dramatics," which is deliciously appropriate if you know Scooby's personality. There were about eight kids ranging from age four to seven years old, and their teacher clearly has more patience than I will ever possess. That recital went something like this:

So, we learned how to -- Evan, come on over here -- we wrote a story and picked our favorite characters -- can you put your mask back on, sweetie -- no, you have to stay in this room -- we had some GREAT energy -- (louder voice over the impressive soprano shrieking) -- can you say your names, no?, okay we'll just get on with the story -- it's okay, Anastasia, you don't have to say your lines, I'll just, um -- (a little desperately) how about we show your parents how we warm up to Firework -- good JUMPING everyone -- so that's what we did this year!

At some point, the babysitter leaned over to me and remarked that Scooby was the calmest one there.

Let that one sink in. My daughter, Scooby, was the calmest child in the room.

Then the teacher was thanking us for coming as we all practically ran out of the studio, clutching our cameras and cell phones full of blurry caught-in-mid-motion pictures.

You both were terrific! I told Doodle and Scooby as we stopped for a celebratory ice cream cone. I'm so proud of you.

Next year, maybe we'll try karate.