To Be or Not To Be?

First, let's get the business of the day out of the way. Please head over to Code Daddy's blog, name drop for me in the comments, and enjoy some pics of his seriously adorable daughter! You can only comment on today's post today... and I don't know if non-bloggers can comment? *** Last night, Teagan and I had the privilege of working together as greeters of the audience for a preview audience (final dress rehearsal) of my old stomping ground's newest production: The Belfry present Agatha Christie's "The Mousetrap." I was there Tues evening and actually got to stay and enjoy the show as well. It's really great. Any Indy readers of my blog should make a serious effort to check it out. It will have you on the edge of your seat. The final scene alone is worth the price of admission! It's not a play for little kids- the whole murder mystery thing, you know- so I hadn't intended for Teagan to see it. Especially after seeing it myself Tuesday evening and seeing adults smoking cigarettes (fake), pipes (unlit), cigars (unlit), a character refers to another as a bitch, a woman gets murdered (in the dark but there are choking noises and then she falls down), someone has a gun they wave around, someone gets attacked (hands on the person's face and throat in full stage light). Nothing terribly difficult for an adult to watch but very hard to explain to a 4 year old, you know? So my intention was for Teagan to get a tour of the backstage area, meet some actors, see the stage and set. And then we'd hang out in the lobby, greet the preview audience, and head home when the show started. Aunt Christy is directing the show so we had someone on the inside who could show her the ropes. She loved it. And wanted to watch the play. I knew that the first scene was safe. At most, it would prove to be boring to her. Grown ups talking and walking around. So we stayed. First scene is 30 minutes long. And she did awesome. We sat in the third row, right up at the stage. She whispered a few questions to me during the show but stayed in her seat, made sure to whisper quietly when she did have questions, and she actually paid attention to what was going on. She asked me what a sign said. Legit question. She asked where the onstage doors went. Legit question- she had seen the backstage area, walked through the doors, walked on the set but then the play starts and the actors are walking through these doors to "the kitchen" or "the drawing room" so I get her confusion and curiosity. She asked if we would get to see the bedrooms. Legit question and a sign she was paying attention. The show is about guests arriving at a guest house and there are a couple of conversations about bedrooms- The Rose Room, The Blue Room, The Oak Room, etc. She asked if I wanted to share her gum. Not a legit question. But kind of her to think of me. At the end of the scene, the lights go out and the curtain closes briefly. We used that as our opportunity to duck out and head home. She had oodles of questions in the car. And we sang along with a Veggie Tales CD. About halfway home, I look in the rear view mirror and her sweet little face is all crumpled up, trying not to cry. "T? What's wrong baby?" That simple questions opened the floodgates. She begins to sob. Tears are pouring down her cheeks and she is genuinely sad and seemingly heartbroken as she says: "I think I'm big enough now that I like scary stuff! I want to go back and see the play! I want to go back to the theatre! I want to see the scary stuff! Why does Aunt Christy like scary stuff? I want to see it!" After some research, I think I have a nice little community theatre schedule planned out. We will go see "Beauty and the Beast" in May, "Hello, Dolly!" in June, and "Seussical!" in July. And I am kicking myself for not taking her to see a local dinner theatre's production of "Cats" over the past few months (the cats get very intimate with the audience, I've heard it's a really cool experience). Promises of taking her to see these shows has calmed the tears, sobs, sadness. For now. Do you see what happened? That, my friends, was the theatre bug biting once again. I believe we have a future thespian in our midst.