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reading tiger

Half a Weekend Update

Simone's "Lion King" show was this afternoon. I was one of the backstage helpers, so I saw most of the show from stage left, but that's fine. Simone's contingent made up about 1/4 of the audience, between parents, grandmother, aunt and uncle, cousins, cousin's partner, and cousin's ex, not to mention April, an extended family member and a family friend.

I didn't quite tell you all last week that watching the dress rehearsal was when I had a serious "I'm a parent" moment, because before I had kids I would probably have not been able to take such unironic joy in the spectacle of these young children singing out of tune and having to be prompted every other line. But this time I was in tune with the fact that they were all having a ball. They got to dress up in costumes, dance around, pretend to be lions and cheetahs and hyenas and elephants, sing at the top of their lungs, do a silly dance or two and get applauded for it.

Simone had the time of her life. She is a big slab of ham and, btw, also knows how to project. I talked with the instructor afterwards who was pleased to hear that in the end, Simone enjoyed the heck out of herself taking this class. Big drama aside -- I am ascribing that to the fact that this was, indeed, a growth experience, as they say.

We got her flowers. Well, I forgot. But I had a dozen backups, and she ended up with two bouquets.

Now the kids are having a sleepover with cousins and Grandy down in Santa Cruz, where we will head tomorrow for a graduation. Not my idea -- the kids were swiped out from under us, not that we fought it much. A whole evening without kids! But we have to get up early, so no shenanigans.

Comments

there are seriously like four thousand different graduations at UCSC, if that's where you're all ending up. It's hilarious.

And yet, out of the four (five if you count a cousin, six if you count my son's best friend) family members who graduated from there, I actually attended one ceremony, two if you count Sam. I still can't figure out why Emma didn't go to hers, unless it was solidarity with somebody somehow. Frank went to his, but I had to be elsewhere and his dad represented us. Mine, I didn't even know I was invited to, because I graduated eleven years later.

Thus, I have to go to Prague.