My wife and I were so proud. Justin and the others dressed in shirts and ties and polished black shoes hardly able to breathe from nerves, playing their hearts out.
Seven-thirty sharp. Three songs, all recognizable without having to consult the program. Fifteen minutes and we were finished. Except...we weren't finished. Somewhere in the back of my mind I knew it wouldn't be that simple.
Having been through this before I knew that the youngest students would perform first (hooray for fifth grade). However, concert etiquette dictates that you stay until everyone has performed. So, whether we wanted to leave or not, Justin was there for the duration. Naturally we wouldn't dream of leaving until the end of the concert in any event, but I must point out that having a bored three and eight-year-old changes the dynamic considerably.
The first 15 minutes were marvelous. It was the next 60 that tested our mettle. A dozen plastic dinosaurs, three books and a box of crayons were all that stood between us and certain disaster. And what idiot picked seats in the very front row?
Logan's crayons held his attention for quite some time, certainly longer than I expected, but I could sense a mounting frustration with the box at large. With each passing minute I prayed a little harder.
"Dear God, please let the blue crayon come to it's senses and cooperate with the boy. I would really like to avoid a repeat of last night's reconciliation debacle."My inattention was momentarily interrupted when my wife leaned over and asked,
"Why is Ethan coloring so loudly?"What? How is that possible? What does that even mean? Sure enough, over the sound of the sixth grade band, I could hear him three seats away...coloring. Only Ethan could make a crayon loud.
The coup de grace came when I heard simultaneous exclamations from Logan and my wife.
"Why is he wet?"
"I had a little accident."Hmm. I just thought you were enjoying the music. Clearly, I misinterpreted your dance.
- 1 December 2011
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