One Friday Favorite: That Time I Bribed a Boy to Go to the Ballet

As I've been gearing up for Christmas, it's been kind of busy around here, as I'm sure it is for all of you. I have been doing other writing projects lately as well as just living life with my adult and almost-adult children, so I haven't written as much here in the past few years. Writing about adult and almost-adult children is a little trickier than writing about the little ones. Their stories are less my stories now. It's so annoying when they grow up and live their own lives. Frankly, I find it pretty rude. ;-) 

We're reminded every single day about how different this Christmas will be. How terrible 2020 has been. How much loss and how much we have to adjust. So, this week I went back into the depths of my blog and read about days when we hadn't a clue what "social distancing" or "coronavirus" or "6 feet apart" meant. Since much about this year and this Christmas seems sad, remembering Christmases past has been my favorite thing this week. 

I wish you the happiest of holidays with your people. This year I'm trying to remember that in a year when Christmas might seem painful and lonely for so many, there has never been a better time to celebrate the birth of Christ. The same Jesus that came over 2,000 years ago is the same one who remains. He didn't come into a world that was bright and sparkly and perfect. He came to a people that were lost and broken and hurting. I think more than ever this year we can relate to those people who needed this Savior. 

The Lord has come. What a relief.

Here's a Friday Favorite for today. One of my favorite memories from Christmas past. 7(!) years ago. See you in January, Friends!

If You Give a Mouse a Cookie (or Take a Boy to the Ballet) 

 . . . you might cross your fingers and hope he doesn't make a scene when he actually realizes what the ballet is.  And you might have to take that cookie from the mouse as a bribe for that boy and add the promise of a giant milkshake for good measure.  And you might find out that having a date with your boy to the ballet is kinda funny and kinda exasperating and kinda one of your best dates ever.

I never found out what any of my three children would be.  I had the first two boys and did not want to try for #3 until I was fully ready to want a child, not a girl.  And I was ready.  I didn't yearn for a girl.  I yearned for that one missing member of our family.  I knew that this would be my last baby and that's all that I hoped for:  a baby.  The day after my third boy, Drew, was born, as I sat in the hospital alone, I told myself that I would take just a few moments in the quiet to grieve the fact that I wouldn't have a little girl.  I waited and waited for the sadness to come and it just didn't.  I was a little shocked actually.  I didn't feel empty or cheated or disappointed.  I felt like God had completed my family exactly the way it should have been completed.  

So despite my jokes about Fake Daughter, there is no real pain in my heart over not having a girl.  None.  But let's be honest.  Though I have come to love baseball and basketball games, sword fights and nerf gun battles, I am most certainly a girl.  A girl who loves some sparkle and some lace, some painted red lips and some pink pointe shoes.  A girl who will squeal with delight at a ballerina twirling and leaping in the spotlight.

So it happened that we had some good friends that would be performing in the Nutcracker.  All of my boys had said that they would escort me to the performance until such time as the two big ones realized that our high school basketball team would be playing its cross-town rival that very evening.

Cue Debbie Downer music.  

I was thinking I really would have to take Fake Daughter, but little man stepped up and said, "I'll go with you, Mama!  What is it?"  

So, I mumbled about dancing and a play and seeing lots of friends on the stage and you're my favorite child ever and we'll get lots and lots of ice cream after.

That was conversation #1.  Here are some samples of conversations during the performance.

Drew:  "Oh, ok.  Is there just like one dance thing and then the story will start?"
Me:  "It has started, buddy.  Remember, I said there was a lot of dancing.  It's the ballet.  Dancing is kinda the whole story.  Just watch."

Drew:  "So, is there a problem to the story because I don't see the problem?" 
Me:  "I'm so glad you've been paying attention to the Elements of  a Story lesson at school  Just watch."

Drew:  "There's Stephen.  And that lady from Vacation Bible School.  And there's Ryan's sister right behind Katie." 
Me:  "See, there are people you know, see?  Cool, right?"
Drew:  "Yea, but I don't think I really get it."

Drew:  "What's the deal with those shoes?  Why are those shoes so loud?"
Me:  "They're tap shoes, buddy.  That's the thing with tap shoes.  Isn't that awesome?"
Drew:  "I guess, but they're really loud."

Drew:  "I didn't know Stephen had a girlfriend.  Is that girl his girlfriend?"
Me:  "No, honey, it's just pretend."
Drew:  "I don't think so, Mom.  I'm pretty sure that's his girlfriend."

Drew:  "So she's dreaming?  I mean is it a good dream or a bad dream?  I don't really get it.  Oh, so she killed the big mouse?  How did she kill it?  Why is there smoke on the floor?  Is there a fire? I don't really get it.  That lady has a ton of makeup on.  That's weird.  Is she a cake?  I don't really get it.  Is Kari a piece of cake or is that a cookie?  What is Kari?"

Me:  "Oh, Drew!  Isn't Mary Beth just beautiful?  She's the Sugar Plum Fairy!  Wasn't she just the best dancer ever?  I think I'm going to cry.  Did you like it?"
Drew:  "Yea, it was alright.  So is there a Dairy Queen close by or do we go all the way to the one by our house?"

So for this girl, there were sequins and pink and beautiful music and lipstick and long fake eyelashes and sparkling crowns.  And I loved every minute, every note, every twirl, every leap.  And I loved my date who sat close the whole time asking questions, but never complaining.  Afterward, Dairy Queen was closed so we went to McDonald's just like all the fancy folks do after a night at the ballet.

The rest of the weekend, we went back to our real life of baseball clinics and basketball practices.  On the way home after church on Sunday, my Nutcracker date asked me, "Hey, Mom, do you think you'd die if someone chopped off your arm?  Wait.  What about if someone chopped off your head?"  

So the moral of the story is, I will keep going to see the Nutcracker every year.  I'll keep joking about shopping and getting manicures with Fake Daughter, but it's all good here in Skinner World.  It's just exactly the way God wants it to be.  As long as no one tries to test the Would You Die if You Chopped Off Your Arm Theory.

Originally posted December 17, 2013