Away in a Manger

Quite frankly, I deserve a bloody medal. Yesterday I had the pleasure of attending three Christmas plays. I wouldn't mind but I've only got two kids.

Before anyone thinks I'm cruising school plays for nefarious reasons I should point out that the Boy's school put on two plays, and I had to watch both of them. Watching your own kids in a school play is ok, because you can laugh at them. Laughing at other people's kids is just plain mean though. So you have to laugh at the funny bits, and it's not always easy to work out which bits are funny.

First up was the Girl's play which, If I followed the plot properly was about Rudolph the Reindeer being too ill to pull Santa's sleigh and being replaced by Ralph the Reindeer who claimed he could fly but couldn't. A kind of festive "Rogue Traders." The Girl was dressed as a reindeer because (weirdly) we had a reindeer costume, and very cute she looked. When we entered the hall she was sitting with her friends on the stage, craning her neck to see us before beaming and waving. So far, so good, we thought. Earlier the Wife and I had discussed that if she managed to start the play smiling it would be a minor miracle. The Girl does not do attention. On her birthday when the cake came out and everyone sang "Happy Birthday" she threw herself on the floor and screamed until everyone stopped singing and started crying. Even some of the mums. So I was working on the principle that so long as no one lost an eye, it was all good.

She lasted about fifteen minutes before ad-libbing a line

"I need a wee!"

and needing to be rescued. Needless to say we couldn't get her back on the stage and that was pretty much her career in drama over.

A few hours later, after taking the Girl for a tantrum in the local petting zoo, I went to see the Boy's play and enjoy another hour and a half perched on a seat half the size of an arse cheek. There's nothing like seeing your little Boy dressed in an old shirt, wearing a tea towel and a coit on his head, pretending to look full of awe at the glory of the Lord whilst surreptitiously rooting around in his hooter. It really is quite magical. And there's much to enjoy, like one of the Wise Men having a billious attack at the side of the stage, or the Angel Gabriel singing Away in a Manger with the sort of gusto and venom only the Sex Pistols managed. Honestly, she scared me. When she sang "lay down his sweet head" it sounded like "You're gonna get you f**king head kicked in."

Sadly for this blog, it all went rather swimmingly and I was very proud of both my Kids. However, it wouldn't be right to finish on that note, so I'll finish with this.

On our return we gave the Boy his dinner, forwent his bath because, well, we couldn't be bothered, and we were in the process of reading him a story when he suddenly leapt to his feet, clutched his bum with a look of surprise and said "I need a poo!"

It was at this point that I spotted a A toy lying on the floor. A small brown plastic bear that looked remarkably like a nugget of poop. I couldn't resist.

"Oh no! You've already done it! Look!"

With a panicked expression the Boy looked at the toy and said;

"Oh! You frightened me then! I thought I'd poo-ed out a bear!"

I'm having that as my epitaph.