Ah, one of the staple traditions of the school years. The Nativity play.
I remember mine well. I was always a narrator, because I could read well. Never Mary or an angel, because of course everyone knows that they had blonde hair.
But I’m not bitter. Oh no.
Big Girl and Little Girl are currently preparing for their plays. Big Girl is following in my footsteps as one of the narrators. She brought her lines home from school last week, and has been diligently practising them.
She’s creepily good at memorising stuff, so it didn’t take long before the piece of paper was cast aside. But she still needed a little help.
Let me clarify. At first, she sounded like this:
Cute it may have been, but I’m not sure there’s space for a zombie in the Nativity play.
We’re working on it.
Little Girl can’t wait for her play. She knows all of the words to the songs.
Well, sort of.
In a crowd of people, the fact that Santa apparently has ‘shut in da back,’ rather than ‘soot in his sack,’ will be barely noticeable.
As they’re only small folk in her class, they’ve kept it pretty simple. The kids don’t really have any lines. In fact, their main purpose is to put on a costume and look sweet.
Which is a good thing.
Because I can guarantee that once they’re stood in front of an audience, that’s all they’re going to do.
Deer in headlights, anyone?
I’m hoping Little Girl isn’t one of the kids who spends the whole play sobbing. It’d really ruin the photographs.
I’m not sure exactly who Little Girl is in her play as she keeps changing her mind. Oh well, at least it’ll be a surprise on the day! Choices so far are:
3. The star.
4. A yellow jelly bean. No, I don’t know why either.
Big Girl’s play is, I believe, a slightly more modern take on the Christmas story. It is entitled ‘A Midwife In Crisis.’ She has been trying to explain the story to me, but I’ll admit to still being a little confused. Much to her exasperation, because to her it makes perfect sense.
“So, there’s Mary, and Joseph… and Nigel.”
Nigel. You know, Nigel? He’s Steve the donkey’s brother.
Obviously I am really looking forward to seeing them both. I will be there next week, armed with tissues and snacks to plug Squeak’s mouth shut. And I will cry. Almost certainly.
I am just hoping it is out of happiness, rather than embarrassment.
A woman can hope, right?