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note: We’ve decided from here on out to give the kids “stage names” for the blog. Friends and family should be able to figure out who is who, but you can go to the ‘about’ page to know more about each of the kids.

It was a straight forward assignment.

“I have to write the whole poem?!” Mookie exclaimed.

“Yes.”

“And I have to memorize it?” she looked at me with eyes that said “Mommy, are you nuts?”

“And,” I added, “You get to perform it for Daddy when you’re ready,” trying to  appeal to her theatrical side.

She slumped.  She sighed.  She looked at me again waiting for sympathy to spread over my face.

“Okay, get to it.”

She did find, when she sat snuggled up with me as I nursed Sparkles, that she could tolerate the copywork.  Even though she came to  enjoy the cozy moments on the couch each day, I still had to remind her to get her work done.

On the day of the performance, the sun rose upon a frazzled mom.  Chores were a chore, baby girl wasn’t napping, and we were on a long detour to get to the day’s school work.

“Mommy, I have to work on my poem!” Mookie announced over the sound of the baby and my voice shouting out chores that still weren’t done.

‘What poem?” 

“Mommy! I have to do it for Daddy tonight”

“Oh right, go work on it and let me know when you’re ready to show me.”

Twenty minutes later, in a calmer moment, she called me back for a preview. Afterward, I gave her some tips on diction and how to calm her nervous body.

“Also, tell us the poem the way you like to hear stories.  Let us know something exciting is happening.  Picture yourself as a fairy in your head, awed by each new season.”

She looked at me.  Then asked me to leave.

Thirty minutes later I was called back again. She’d added a British accent and a lot more expression.

A few hours passed as my mind turned to other tasks of the day.

As Daddy’s arrival drew near, I pulled her sister aside and gave her a little pep talk about being supportive and focusing on Mookie during her recitation(since she had heard the practicing all week, I worried she might be lacking in enthusisasm when the real time came).  Then she surprised me.

With a playful smile she said, “I’m not a part of audience, I’ll be doing something else, just wait and see.”

I was stumped.  Then I started noticing some things. The Boy was missing. Sounds from the rehearsal room told me he was with the actress.  

“Do you know where my flashlight is?  And do I have some dark clothes, like that might blend into darkness?” Jelly Bean asked.

The Boy came out holding pink gloves, “Help.”

Mookie, in the hours I had gotten busy, had recruited stagehands!  For the next hour, the actress, the director, and the spotlight technician busied themselves with preparation.  There was a stage to be set, lighting to be adjusted, proper backstage attire to found.  Hair to be fixed, costumes to be approved, and of course a few more run throughs.

Finally, when the black cloth was positioned for a stage, and the lightning was just so, the performance began.

With a 4 year old announcer and director, a 6 year old operating the spotlight, and an 8 year old giving the performance of a lifetime, you can imagine it was quite a show.

Later that night, thinking back on the “simple assignment”, I loved how it had turned into to something that so suited the individual talents of each of the kids. And how it had turned in to a family affair.

Afterward, Mookie and I sat on the couch together.  ”At first when you told me I had to memorize a poem I thought ‘Boring’ but then this whole thing turned into real theater!”

And so it was.

A simple assignment.  With a lot of heart.