For anyone that knows her, it's no real surprise when I say that my child is a drama queen. That is, everything in her world is over the top. If it's good news, then she's bouncing off the wall. If it's bad news, then there is wailing and gnashing of teeth. There is very little in our world that any sane person would consider normal, mundane or middle of the road.
So, when I mentioned (in an extremely offhand kind of way) that I was working on some basic blocking and choreography for my class, and then mentioned (in that same offhand kind of way) that it was this part of the class that was the most difficult and took me the longest, she catapulted out of her seat as she yelled, "OOOOOOOOO LET ME! I'LL DO IT!"
She spent the next hour Alvin Ailey-ing herself across the living room floor -- the happiest child on earth. I sat on the couch watching this spectacle, both amused and annoyed, because I have to admit, it wasn't half bad.
She asked if she could come with me to class.
I said no.
She begged if she could miss school JUST THIS ONCE to come to class.
I said no.
Seeing she was getting nowhere fast, she pleaded with me to speak to all my students and ask what skills they have and what might be a challenge -- because she wanted to STRETCH them so they could reach their full potential.
She actually said that. And she's 10.
Meanwhile, she is also suffering the a-go-ny of a busy schedule. Her latest tragedy has been the inability to squeeze in a single night to see the Broadway touring company production of "Little Shop of Horrors." This disaster has only been compounded because a couple of months ago she missed seeing the local high school production of the same show due to her immediate lock down after acting like a heathen in school.
For a long time she would refuse to mention the name of the show, and when asked, would just sigh and say in her usual overly dramatic fashion, "I just don't want to talk about it."
Fine by me.
But her head nearly exploded when she saw a billboard advertising the upcoming show. It was her golden opportunity for redemption and her LAST CHANCE EVER (MOM I'LL NEVER EVER BE ABLE TO SEE IT!) to see that which shall not be spoken that she missed the last time around because it was her own dumb fault.
"MOMMMMM! CAN WE GO????"
Sadly, the bulk of the performances happen while she is in New York City. While the 10 year old is cavorting in New York City, seeing Phantom on Broadway, going to the Ringling Brothers Circus at Madison Square Garden, and oh yeah -- singing in Carnegie Hall. Little conflicts.
I explained that no, we couldn't go. Opening night she has a dress rehearsal. Night number two is the night before she leaves, and then she is gone for the rest of the week. Our rule of thumb for all such activities is they have to pass a three-stage test: money, time and behavior. Unfortunately, time just wasn't on our side.
So she's been gnashing her teeth in a very suffering for her art kind of way. She's back to "I just don't want to talk about it" in hushed tones. Over the weekend her choir premiered a piece in the same hall where THAT SHOW is going to be. As we were leaving, she covered her eyes saying she "couldn't bear to look at THAT poster" and then wailed when she saw its reflection in the mirror.
Such a drama queen.
So, what do you suppose she's going to do on Wednesday, March 30th, when she is picked up from ballet, taken to a celebratory night-before-NYC dinner and surprised with those tickets?
(((((*Shhhhhhhh* Don't. Tell.)))))
Never underestimate the power of GreenTuna and GramTuna.
We can out-drama the Drama Queen any day of the week.