Kindergarten Musical Program

Jack's kindergarten musical performance was last night. I have been a veteran of fourth grade performance after performance, but this was my first time witnessing a kindergarten "event."

Let me back up. I should start by saying that this evening program was not always at "major event" status in our minds. The day before yesterday, we simply referred to it as a singing program. A simple and very non-stressful appointment on the calendar. But then, Jack woke up yesterday morning, and the world was suddenly different.

His first words upon waking were, "I'm scared. I don't feel good. I don't think I can sing tonight. I don't think I can take it." He then proceeded to get himself SO worked up that he took on the "Jack's gonna puke" look. We rushed to the toilet and huddled there over it for a bit until he composed himself. I reassured him that the singing program would be fun and that it was nothing to worry about at all. He would do great. It would be fine. After a few heave-free moments, he decided to face the day, evening performance and all.

My workday progressed as usual and the kindergarten performance faded to the back of my mind... until I picked up Jack that afternoon. Earlier at school, Jack and his classmates had been issued the specially colored t-shirts for the evening show. Jack's t-shirt was green, but... it was also missing. His teacher had searched high and low. He had laid it down by his cubby, and it had just vanished. As a temporary bandaid, she scrounged up a replacement t-shirt, but this replacement was hot pink.

Boys don't wear hot pink. Jack was sure of it. Jack did not want to wear the hot pink shirt.

And so I talked to him. I reassured him that pink would be fine. He agreed to wear the shirt.

My phone rang later in the evening. It was Jack's teacher. She had called every single child's home in order to see if someone carried off the t-shirt by mistake. She was able to reach all but one child, a little girl named Sydney Mae. While listening to her story and reassuring her that she didn't need to go to these lengths of calling every household, I began to wonder exactly how much of a meltdown Jack had had earlier at school to warrant these extensive attempts at regaining what seemed to be a now chronically important green shirt. I am barely listening to her anymore, too busy casting sideways glares toward my child.

An hour later, it was time to leave for the performance. Jack was now happy in his hot pink shirt, and we were en route when the cell phone rang. "It's already over! We missed it!" said Grandpa (who was already at the school). For a brief second, I allowed myself to panic and question the time. But no... they've just arrived at the tail end of an earlier performance. The kindergarten class is outrageous in size, requiring four DIFFERENT performances. "We've not missed it. It's okay, Grandpa. We're good. Jack's show is at 7, and it's only 6:34," I assured him.

We arrived at 6:45. Upon entering the building, we were greeted by a beautiful little girl with long brown hair, ivory colored skin, and freckles scattered across her nose. She was almost three inches taller than Jack as they stood next to each other, and she fawned over him like a mother. "Jaaaack, I had YOUR shirt in MY backpack! Were you looking for it?!!!" she squealed.

No response from Jack. He must still be nervous. His eyes were scanning, clearly overwhelmed at the throng of children and parents. Some kids were crying. Some kids were jumping up and down for no reason. Many kids were yelling. Parents were fussing with ponytails and hair ribbons. Teachers looked like they could yank their hair out at any second. I glanced down at Jack again. His eyes were glazing over.

The little girl had given up on a response from Jack. She laughed delightedly and tugged on his shoulders, pulling him toward the line up of squealing children. I walked beside him, stripping off his hot pink shirt, and yanking on his green one.

With a quick kiss delivered, I rushed to back to the auditorium to find my seat next to Jim, Emma, Grandma, and Grandpa. On with the show!

In the end, the performance was extraordinarily cute. Kindergartners, as a mass, don't sing. They SHOUT. And the more offbeat and loud the shouting is, the more the audience responds with emphatic applause at the cute factor.

Jack and family survived the event, but let's take a moment to remember the beautiful and fawning little girl. Had you forgotten about her? I had too, but as we made a beeline for the school's doors when the program was over, I noticed that she and a smiling line up of accompanying adults were waiting to meet me after the performance. I shook hands with them when it became clear that they were anxiously waiting for me to. "This is Sydney Mae, Jack's girlfriend." The girlfriend he's scheduled to marry, apparently. It suddenly becomes clear that I am presently meeting what must be the future "in-laws."

What?! Jack has a girlfriend?! Since when? I am nodding, smiling, and shaking heads like crazy despite my shock. I am absolutely sure that, this time, it was my own set of eyes that were glazing over. (For your future reference, kindergarten musical program = major event.)

Jack - middle row

Sydney Mae - top row, beside 'tiara child'