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One Time Performance

I was there when my granddaughter, Lindsay, came bursting into the kitchen with such excitement that my daughter and I could barely make out what she was saying.
My daughter said, “Calm down, now just what is it that you’re trying to say?”
     “Well Mom, I’m in a play at school and I need a long dress, something old fashion like when grandma was little”. I silently let that one go by me.   We were able to discern that the sixth grade class was putting on a play and she needed to have a certain costume. My daughter responded, as most moms would have, “I guess I can scrounge up something”. And so the saga began.
     She wanted a long skirt I suggested adding some material on to an existing skirt. “No, no, Grandma that won’t do”. I compromised and said,”O.K. I’ll make the skirt”. Now there was still the matter of a blouse. Making a skirt is pretty easy but a blouse was not my forte. Nothing she owned was appropriate (according to Lindsay) so, mom agreed to buy a new blouse, which cost double the price of the skirt material.
     “What about shoes I’m going to need shoes.” she chided. 
     “You can wear your new dress shoes,” said mom
     “Those shoes are not old fashion looking” said Lindsay
     “Well what about your sneakers,” said Mom
     “Oh, Mom”. “All the other girls will be wearing ankle boots. I want boots too.”
My daughter stood her ground as she said,” No, I am absolutely not going to buy boots, no...No...No…”
     After she bought the$40.00 ankle boots, things seemed to settle down. Lindsay spent every day after school rehearsing. The awaited day finally arrived and she looked lovely in a light colored skirt with a big ruffle at the hem (I spent two days getting it just “right” according to Lindsay specifications)with a high-necked long sleeve blouse that hugged her arms. She looked very nineteenth century with delicate white lace at the neck of her blouse that framed her small face. Her (must have) boots were barely visible under her long skirt.
     The day of the show, Lindsay was upset because her brother, Evan, had a baseball game and might not have been   able to make the show and her dad was also going to be delayed at work. I assured her that Grandpa and I would certainly be there but it was not quiet enough to appease her disappointment.  The baseball game was scheduled to begin at five o’clock.  Lindsay had to be at school by five-thirty and the show was scheduled to begin at seven.  Evan was torn between going to his game and seeing his sister’s play.   Mother (as usual) came to the rescue.
     Solution: neighbor took Lindsay to school at five-thirty, while Mom drove Evan to his game. Grandpa and Grandma stood by for moral support. Via the wonderful invention of the cell phone, Mom and Dad communicated back and forth, back and forth, until Dad managed to get out of work in time to pick up Evan. Evan, sweaty and hot after a very tiring baseball game, which they won, changed into his jeans and shirt in the back seat of the van, while Dad rushed to get to the school barely making the opening scene.
    So there we were all family members present as we eagerly awaited the appearance of our “star”.  The play was a tableau, which as the narrator speaks the actors portray the scene with silence and motions. After about fifteen minutes had gone by, and still no Lindsay on stage, my daughter and I exchanged a puzzle look.  After thirty minutes we finally spotted her as the choir entered singing the finale. There she was in the back row, behind a well fed eleven year old singing her heart out. All we ever saw was her beautiful face. She could have been wearing her P.J.’s. I mentally calculated my daughter’s cost for this one time production(less than five minutes on stage) for a pre-teen who thinks high fashion is wearing jeans and a sweater.  Will she ever wear those clothes again?
Oh well, I thought, there is always Halloween.

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