This continues for about an hour, and then there's a cookie and punch reception that is the highlight of any preschooler's young life. Exhaustion takes over, for every child and parent and anyone within a ten mile radius of the building, and though the car ride home may include some whining and tears, the Christmas season feels officially kicked off. Happy Birthday, Jesus! We can't wait for more celebrations of your birth.
Saturday, December 13, 2008
"Tiny tots, with their eyes all aglow..."
That's what we witnessed last night. Christmas spirit through the eyes of a child. It was Jake's preschool Christmas program, and he could not have been more excited. Or more of a handsome dude in his new tie. If you've never been to a preschool Christmas program, or if it's been a while, I'll give you a brief synopsis of how things work: You must arrive forty minutes early, not only to drop your child off in his classroom, but to find a remotely decent seat. If you are going to save seats for relatives, you must come ready for an intense battle of passive-aggressive facial gestures that imply "we're in a church so I'm not going to physically harm you, but you can't seriously be thinking that you're going to be able to sit directly on top of my coat and purse that are saving a spot for grandma and grandpa."
Then comes about six or seven false starts where the lights go down and people get quiet only to realize that half the kids aren't in line to come into the auditorium because they are either in the bathroom, or have run back to their classroom to retrieve something vital like a chewed up pencil they're planning on showing great Aunt Bertha after the show. Then as the first class walks down the aisle every child stops when they get to mom and dad for the ever important cheesy-grinned photo op. Sorry, my child definitely slowed things down with this one...of course we didn't end up with a good picture, but oh well.Next is the 3-5 minute period where the teachers attempt to get the kids lined up in their assigned rows which no doubt is the same spot they've been practicing in since the beginning of September. Another 2 minutes to get everyone to stop wildly waving at mom and dad and shouting, "I'm right here, guys!"
Then the music starts and you cannot help but laugh until your stomach aches and tears are streaming down your face. They've obviously been told to sing loudly, which clearly means scream at the top of your lungs even when you don't know the words. Hysterical. Here's some great (and very short, don't worry) examples, the first one from cousin Matty's class: