The school musical is over.
Praise the Lord and pass the ammunition.
I swear I get the award for mother of the year for sitting through three performance of middle-school boys trying to sing in a vocal register that's either too low or too high. (Note to director: Try transposing the music up a little. It would have been kinder to the boys and to the audiences, who had to put up with words sung in a too-low growl, octave jumps in the middle of a line or squeaky highs.)
The show was double-cast. Which made it a little more interesting to sit through nights one and two, since I saw different leads those two nights.
And I also saw different errors and an amazing amount of onstage cool and clever ad-libbing when things went wrong.
Prime example: two kids onstage, waiting for the musicians (adults, by the way) to stop tickling the keyboard with interim music and START THEIR SONG ALREADY ...
He is on his knees. She is standing in a dancey pose.
The wrong music continues. Their duet music doesn't start.
She grabs his hand and does a twirl under his arm.
"Smooth," he says. "You should be in show biz."
"Yes," she answers. "And maybe next time we'll get better musicians."
Cue audience hysterics.
This particular musical has at its core the theme that if a woman does something better than a man, he won't like her anymore. A lovely message to pass along to our middle-school girls already struggling with their gawkiness, developing bodies and mean-girl wars.
So I mentioned it to the Roo-girl -- that this was an antiquated message of an era fairly long gone.
"Oh, no," she replied. "You know middle school boys don't like girls to dispute their ... their ... you know, their ... manliness."
I believe she and I had this conversation once before, but I still can't get over the idea of middle-school boys and their ... ahem ... manliness.
It does boggle the mind.