Christmas Performance

Libby's School Christmas program was on Thursday night. I'd hoped that she'd sing, but wasn't holding my breath. The last time her class sang, she sat on my lap and cried. I wasn't in a hurry to get to the performance, because I thought if we were near the front, where she could see us, it would surely increase the chance of a four-year-old nuclear meltdown. When we got there, the only seats left were the last two pews in the church. I wanted to be hidden, just not that hidden.

Anyway, people filed into the church after us and the isles against the walls started to fill in with people willing to stand. Nelson and Valerie snagged a seat behind us, at the other end of the pew, near the middle isle. When the classes of preschoolers came in, I scanned each class looking for Libby and crossing my fingers. When I spotted her she was marching happily with her classmates smiling as she came. And then she spotted (we think) Nelson and Valerie, two people she knows and loves like family. And that's when she exploded right smack in the middle (literally) of the church. I ducked down and told my mom, "I think I'll let her teacher deal with this one." I was prepared to wait it out hunkered down in my seat until the crying ceased, but Anita (the mother of Libby's best friend and classmate) saw what was happening and jumped out of her seat to console my crying child. When I peeked up over the heads of the people sitting in front of me, I could see Anita and Libby's teacher desperately scanning the crowd looking for me. Busted. I went up the side isle saying to people, "Excuse me. Hi. Excuse me. I'm the mother of the crier." Libby and her teacher continued with the preschool procession up the main isle and I met them up front to intercept my child on stage. Sigh.

I was sure the story would end here....

...and we'd try again next year.

But, it didn't.

Luckily, Libby's class was the last to sing and as the other classes gave their performances it gave me time to talk to Libby. I told her, "I know this is hard for you, but Daddy and I really want you to try. Please try." And she said she would. And then she did. She got up and sang with her class. Since I was now sitting on the floor in front of the stage, every once in a while she'd glance over at me and start to whimper, but as soon as she'd look at her teacher again, she was fine. She even sang. It was awesome.

Next year, we'll all sit in the balcony. She'll never spot us up there.