Insubordiknit

Theater mice

Theater class: first there was the audition. I know, right? He's five. It's the second class. Audition? But really it was fine, just a little song they had to sing on stage so that their grad student instructor could hear their voices, see their comfort level, and give them a part in the culmination of the class -- a tiny, couldn't-you-just-die production. The kids, of which there are 6-8, were encouraged to sing such classics as the abcs, twinkle twinkle, happy birthday. My son, always skidding on his head to the sound of a different drumline, had trouble choosing between his 2 favorite songs -- die die die by the Avett Brothers and the wayward wind by Tex Ritter. Both of which he can sing in entirety and with the tone of a small squeaky angel -- the wayward wind is particularly charming when one is familiar with the voice of tex ritter, not so squeaky or angelic.

In the end, the boy picked die die die.

She’s fighting with the sky
She thinks she can
Livin’ within a lie
She thinks she can
But nobody knows what lies behind
The days before the day we die
Die, die, die, die, die, die, die
Die, die, die, die, die, die, die
Die, die, die

She puts her hands against
The life she had
Living with ignorance
Blissful and sad
But nobody knows what lies behind
The days before the day we die
Die, die, die, die, die, die, die
Die, die, die, die, die, die, die
Die, die, die

You can try to swim the sea
But say goodbye to you and me
You can try to swim the sea
You can try to hold the breeze
You can try to hide the sun
But say goodbye to everyone
Die, die, die, die, die, die, die
Die, die, die, die, die, die, die
Die, die, die

I could have melted, my little boy singing about the futility of life. And the beauty of it.

After auditions they did acting stuff, which included pretending a blue felt blanket was anything besides a blue felt blanket, learning stage directions, and acting like different animals.

First they acted like lions, all the kids on all fours, roaring. Then they acted like giraffes, necks stretched, toes tipped. Finally they acted like mice. Seven kids meandered about, front teeth jutting, hands folded demurely under chin, vibrating, tiny, cute biting noises -- a embroidered sweatshirt mouse come to life. There was one kid alone, on all fours, this way and that, skittering just as fast as he can, a look of sheer terror on his tiny-mouse face.

When we first moved into this house, it was infested with mice. Having never ever lived with any kind of critter, I was seriously skeeved. It was so bad that I used to knit in the front room with a cup full of pencils sitting beside me and when the skittering and chewing in the kitchen got to be a low roar I'd toss a pencil from where I was sitting, through the dining room and into the kitchen. It would shut them up for a few rows and then I'd have to throw another. I'd continue on until I had 3 pencils left. The grand finale throw which had to be bigger to ensure maximum scattering for prompt pencil collection. And then it'd begin again.

I was reminded of those days as I watched that lone kid acting, not like a cute adorable long-tailed creature, but like the terrible, vicious, super-quick monster that mice are. In reality. The reality-mouse was, of course, my son. I could just hear the other parents thinking
Now that's a kid knows mice.
Fer real.

Posted by jacey at September 27, 2007 08:46 PM