Friday, December 16, 2011

More Death, Please.

It was the big Holiday Pageant at my kids' school today. Husband and I went to one last week, but today's show promised Son doing more songs with his class and the possibility of tangerines.

The girl that spent time in last week's pageant lost in the music and creating all of her own hand gestures for the duration of the set (at first, I thought she was doing American Sign Language. But she wasn't.) opened today's pageant -- again in the front row --  by hiking up her skirt to scratch her thighs and yank up her tights. A collective gasp from the crowd assured me that the next two hours would be Hi. Larious.

I wasn't disappointed. 

As the Chorus pushed and shoved their way off the stage, something crashed to the floor.

"Oh." said my friend, Irish Brogue in full force. "It was the menorah."

"I love it when you say, 'menorah' in your accent," said friend J to friend M.  "And it rhymes with beggora," he added.

Naturally, we started rhyming, until the third grade could get situated on stage. 

Holy beggora!
The plastic menorah
It hit the floor-a
And you are a whore-a. 

Third grade settled in and we had to put our rhyming fun on hold. And let me tell you something: Third grade knocked it out of the fucking park.  

One little kid played the tabla for a pretty spunky "Fum, Fum, Fum."  And he kept playing for  "Diwali," while 60 kids behind him pulled out some hard-core Bollywood dance moves.

Tabla
You'd have to be a stone-cold asshole to not do a little toe-tapping and head-swaying when that number was going on.  At this point, I didn't think the Kindergarteners were going to be able to bring down the house with their finale (Our pageants aren't in order by grade. I think it's the school's way of ensuring that the biggest crowd -- the parents of Kindergarteners -- stay for the whole show).

When 2nd grade came out, I found my little guy. At the end of his second song, I realized he was playing a tambourine. 


Hamster sees wheel. Hamster slowly approaches wheel. Hamster sniffs air, pauses, reluctantly gets on wheel and starts to move, slowly.


"Oh!" I blurted out to what was left of my friends (two of 'em made a break for it. Sneers be damned.). "He's playing a tambourine.  He told me last night that he was going to have a tangerine in the pageant."  

I had just assumed his teacher promised the kids some fresh fruit after the show. I should either listen better or ask more questions.


2nd grade was followed by the "Library Lovers" who put on a 4-minute skit of "The Little Match Girl" by Hans Christian Anderson. 

Are you familiar? I wasn't, so the narration was helpful. Within the first minute, the narrator told us all that 'the little match girl freezes to death.'


[record scratch]


"Whaaaa?"

We were unable to contain our laughter. Happy KwanzaEidChannukahDiwaliChristmas and here's a dead girl on stage. Bitch couldn't light her match. Or sell her matches. I don't know. But she froze to death and was a crumpled ball of kid on the stage.

I can only imagine the teachers and administration brainstorming the acts for this year:


Teacher #1: "I don't know. I just don't think the tabla is enough. We need....something."
Teacher #2: "Yes. Indeed. Something more. Something ... different..."
Teacher #3: "I've got it! Let's tell the story of poor children dying in the street!"
Teacher #2: "Something for everyone..."

First grade performed and did something, I don't know what. I was still mourning the loss of the little match girl and couldn't focus.


Kindergarten brought their A game. And if it wasn't for the tabla player in Grade 3, I would've said the 60  little toy soldiers in construction paper hats and red masking tape bandoliers, with rosy-rouged cheeks, marching through the crowd of the auditorium would have been the showstopper.


But  I really like the tabla.


The best part of Kindergarten's part of the show was focusing on friend J's son once he got onstage. Until I realized that that particular kid in fact, was not J's son.  I found the right boy and pointed him out to J, who was thankful for my help.

They're always too long, too hot, too cramped and lacking booze, but these holiday pageants are always worth their weight in tangerines.  

We were like this. But hotter.












1 comment:

  1. When I was a youngster I totally rocked the tangerine. Just sayin'.

    Still, it was always some pretty boy on the Tabla who the girls swooned over. Sometimes a guy can't win - even with fresh fruit on his side.

    As for the lack of booze, let's just say I always "freshen up" my travel mug before heading to the big show.

    Worst case scenario I raise a toast to the dead kid on stage, right?

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