Friller

Yesterday was the big day for Cherub; the day of the Grade 3/4 Concert featuring his star turn as Michael Jackson (when the time travellers visited the 80s).  Ever since I learned he was to have a small dance solo during the song, I have been ridiculously excited, and hounded him over the weeks to show me his moves.  I'm a card-carrying Stage Mother, of course I did. But he steadfastly refused, because he wanted it to be a big surprise.  The only thing he let me in on was that he'd be doing the famous moonwalk, so we've had ongoing impromptu sessions on that: Is this right, mum?  Nearly but you need to lift the other heel as you slide the foot back etc.  I was nearly as impatient as him for the day of the concert to arrive.



The theatre had been booked when the teachers were still implementing workplace bans on out-of-hours labour as part of their industrial action.  Which meant we had to have a daytime concert.  This was not quite as much fun, as the kids got bussed back to school straight afterwards and we parents had to rush back to collect them - no big hugs in the theatre foyer and chats with other proud parents over a glass of wine.  And no going off for a celebratory gelati afterwards, our family tradition.  Nontheless, it was fun as usual to watch all those happy, enthusiastic children giving it their all.



Another Mum and I collaborated on the zombie costumes for Thriller and I was very pleased with how cool they looked. It made that boring production line sewing and running around organising fabric dye worthwhile.  But better than pride in my own handiwork was the pride I felt in the children.  A friend of mine taught me a new word recently: Nachas, which is a Yiddish word meaning the pride or joy one feels for the success of another - often one's child - particularly if one took part in the process of achieving that success.  This concert gave me great volumes of nachas, not only for my kid but also for some of my tap students who popped up with tap-dancing solos that they'd obviously choreographed themselves.  None of them told me about it beforehand either, so I was very close to squealing when they started breaking out their well-executed moves.



As for Cherub, he did such a good job!  He was word-perfect with his lines and spoke clearly and confidently.  He danced well and sang loudly and tunefully.  And when he busted out his moonwalk the crowd went wild.  Fixit and I were bursting with pride.

 

My favourite moment though, was not his splendid moonwalk.  It was the moment just before he danced his solo.  He stepped forward and adjusted his jacket and glove. Then we saw him take a big, steadying, oh-my-goodness, here-I-go breath.  And then a little grin of excited pride crept over his face, and you can see him firmly repress it, just before he listened for his cue.  It was so cute, so very him.



Great job, Cherub!