Sunday, May 14, 2017

The Not a Christmas Letters, Part 4

This is what I think is the last of the Not a Christmas Letters.  I tried to pick it up later a couple of times, but I never really got it together.  I'm not really sure why - I could blame Facebook, but that would be purely theoretical, as I don't post much.  At least one item which would have been a Not a Christmas Letter entry appears on this blog. So here it is, the last of the Not a Christmas Letters.

This is not a Christmas letter, even a late one.  Rather, it is a brief window into the chaos that is our lives in the past year or so.

Hundredth Day

The boy’s school has a yearly event they call Hundredth Day – to celebrate the one-hundredth day of class of the school year, they generally have some sort of commemorative festivities.  This year, the students were encouraged to dress up as old people.  Huh?  I can only assume that the boys would wear white beards or something.  After some coaxing and threatening, we convinced him to don the following ensemble:

  • T-shirt
  • Unbuttoned flannel overshirt
  • Grey sweatpants, pulled up high at the waist
  • Black socks with sandals, and
  • Baseball cap

I thought he looked awesome.  He was less than thrilled.  When we insisted on taking his picture, he wouldn’t smile.  After some unsuccessful coaxing and joking, I finally said “Okay then, just look like all your dreams have been crushed and you didn’t turn out to be quite the man you thought you’d be.”  So that’s pretty much what he did. All day.

Later that evening, Rowan came down five minutes before bedtime, asking for cake which had been promised but forgotten.  Cue parental difference of opinion as to whether cake was still appropriate.  In a rare concession, after an initial show of opposition, Jan did not object when I got the daughter the cake.  She was eating, and we were talking about the Hundredth Day outfit, when she started laughing about the “all your dreams have been crushed” line and inhaled some of the cake.  This of course triggered a coughing fit, while still laughing.  When the choking/coughing/laughing eventually resolved, Jan, without even bothering to look back, said “That’s why you don’t eat cake right before you go to bed.”

         

Still Life with 8 year-old Boy

Part I.
          So one of Connor’s friends had a birthday party at the movie theater – meet for the movie and snack, followed by pizza and cake – a pretty nice setup.  I drop him off and arrive to pick him up a couple of hours later.  I’m a little early, so I sit down and wait for them. 
          All of the boys are clustered around a few tables, eating their pizza.  There is a flatscreen above their heads, showing a loop of trailers and commercials.  One of the commercials has a guy in a shaving commercial on TV, who, failing to spot his target audience in front of him, steps out of the TV into real life, wearing only a towel, and goes in search of him.  During his brief quest, a sprinkler system soaks him.  When he drops his towel to wring it out, twelve eight year-old boys simultaneously throw their arms up in the air and yell “WOO HOO! NAKED GUY! “ As it was on a loop, they did this every five minutes or so – it never got any less entertaining.

Part II.
          Nutcracker season began this year with auditions in April.  Despite having previously been in four Nutcrackers, including a stint as a co-Fritz, Connor has never has to audition.  Why? He’s a boy.  Boys do not usually volunteer for Nutcracker – they are more or less shanghaied, then bribed and threatened to get them through the rehearsals and performances.  There has probably never been a Nutcracker party boy whose older sister was not dancing a role.
          This year, however, they actually have a handful of boys who not only dance, but are probably getting a little bored with just being party boys.  So, although it’s anybody’s guess what they’re planning to do with them, they tell the boys they have to audition – show up in dance attire, with a headshot.  After dutifully getting suited and booted, Connor disappears into the studio with the other boys, then comes out a while later.

“So Connor, what did they have you do?”
“Well, they had us do some combinations, then we had to freestyle for an eight count”
“So what did you do for your freestyle?”
“Coffeegrinders.  Then I spun on my back.”

Yep – the boy breakdanced at a ballet audition.  The company may be rethinking that whole “boys dancing in the Nutcracker” idea.


Twelve Little Girls in Two Straight Lines, or how I was Ms. Foldetta’d into submission


This year, Rowan transitioned from dancing with Lone Star Jazz to dancing with the McCullough Jr. High School drill team.  No, strike that, it doesn’t entirely capture it – this year Rowan became a Highland Girl.  There is practice and tradition and little sister gifts and metric tons of candy.  Somehow it goes beyond high-kicking and high ponytails, and extends to such areas as posture, etiquette, relations with the opposite gender, world political and cultural affairs, and Newtonian physics. Actually, I’m a little fuzzy on those last two, but suffice it to say that I’m pretty sure that the cross-country team has never been lectured, as they stretched, on table manners and exactly which fork to use when.  Or maybe they have – maybe there is now an entire generation of female junior high school athletes who could throw on a dress after practice and head to a formal dinner without breaking a sweat, and knowing exactly which fork to use once they got there – but I somehow doubt it – I think that the Highland Girls are unique in that and other regards.  I would have loved to have been on the street downtown when 75 girls paraded from Zilkha Hall after seeing The Nutcracker to the Aquarium for lunch, each with their umbrellas, high ponytails, ribbons, smiles, and perfect bearing – it must have been quite a sight.

Twelve little girls in two straight lines – a Mouse Army marching into the future.  I find it all rather enchanting, which is probably totally the wrong response, if you asked any of them.


The Difference Between Boys and Girls II


As I write this, everybody but me is playing some form of Animal Crossing, an odd little game that we have on at least three platforms.  Rowan is exclaiming “Oh my gosh – I just made a dandelion wish on Animal Crossing” as her character picks and blows a dandelion on the DS screen.  In contrast, Jan is presently fussing at Connor for running through all the flowers onscreen.  This has been an ongoing issue here.  He doesn’t really seem to care much, perhaps realizing that they are just pixels on a screen. He also doesn’t bounce.

I have come to believe that bouncing is endemic to 12-19 year old girls.  And squeaking at the slightest provocation. And planning endlessly for the smallest of things. I have actually threatened to get matching T-shirts for Rowan and a friend of hers – “Rowan and Sarah –making simple things really, really complicated since 2007.”


THE STORM


Due to the sheer magnitude of the event, I feel that I would be remiss if I did not at least mention Hurricane Ike in passing, so here is a brief description:


I came from the hills with a tear in my eye
The winter closed in and the crows filled the sky
The houses were burning the flames gold and red
The people were running with eyes filled with dread
Ah aaaaaaahh…
They didn't have to do this
We chased them for miles I had hate in my eyes
Through forest and moors as the clouds filled the skies
The storm broke upon us with fury and flame
Both hunters and hunted washed out in the rain

Oh wait – that’s not me – that’s a Big Country song.  The truth for me is that I missed most of it, except for the disruption to Indiana and the Chicago suburbs.  Oops.  As such, I will attempt to report the highlights as per Jan – Sarah G. asking if they had to go over to the Chaves’s for dinner, weren’t we having fajitas?, the Monopoly game on the living room floor, Kaitlyn’s mother eventually calling her and saying “you have to come home – your father misses you,” and the mouse buffet the grey cat was presented with as many, many mice completed the transition from homelessness to snack.


As usual, rock on.


J.

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