Performance Day

So my class performed their musical yesterday for parents and the grades one, two, three and four in our school. The Principal and Vice Principal were there too, by invitation. So were Spills and her Daddy and the camcorder-that-died-right-before-the-show-started-so-Mommy-couldn't-have-a-record-of-her-kids'-great-
performance-for-posterity.

It was a fabulous show. It was my kids' highest point in a year in which I have tried every way I could think of to convince them that they have worth and potential. They are not accustomed to successes, and hardly knew what to do with themselves when the applause started. After the show, all the kids in the audience had questions for them, and my students were blushingly delighted to answer everything. And my principal said to me privately, "I do not know how you got that out of them." I do: they started to think that they could actually do it. The rest was (relatively) simple.

And Spills fell utterly in love with the lot of them. I believe she now thinks her calling lies upon the stage. She was particularly proud of the fact that her plastic vegetables and her Dora tablecloth were part of the props.

After the show was over, her Daddy went back to work, and she came to my classroom to partake in the cast party. She and I had walked to the grocery store the night before to buy goodies, and she proudly took the floor to hand them out.

"Everyone. Listen. I have treats for you. And they are...." (with a flourish, reaching into the bag) "Gummy Nemo candies!!!"

Yes, she had felt my young adolescents would particularly appreciate gummy candies in the shape of characters from Finding Nemo. And never underestimate the power of a four and a half year old to charm the bluster and cool right off a twelve-year-old kid. My entire class expressed great delight over their gummy candies. And they really, really liked the ice cream bars when they appeared.

Then Spills presented them with a difficult choice. "I brought you MOVIES. You can watch either THIS--" which was Finding Nemo-- "or THIS--" which was a collection of Mickey Mouse cartoons.

They almost unanimously selected Finding Nemo, in honour of the gummy candies. Spills was ushered with ceremony to a seat beside one of my nicest boys, and he proceeded to have a most in-depth discussion with her about what was going on. And I sat at the back and looked at my little collection of souls and thought that, once in awhile, everything seems to converge the way that it should.

The Circle of Life

So, today was our eleventh anniversary. To celebrate, we headed to Niagara Falls, where Spills had never been. We walked along the parkway to the falls, marvelling at the rapids and the falls themselves. Then we headed up the crazy Clifton Hill, past Ripley and Guinness and all the rest. We decided to have lunch at the Rainforest Cafe, a spot that was new to all of us.

Inside the cafe, we were quite enjoying the I-spy game of finding animals amid the foliage, when Spilly suddenly said, "Mommy, I don't want to die."

She has been watching Charlotte's Web, and we have been talking about it.

"I know," I said gently after a minute. There was really nothing else to say, besides pointing out that we all hoped she wouldn't die for awhile.

Her Daddy talked about how Charlotte's Web was all about the cycle of life, kind of like in the Lion King. People are born, they live awhile, and they die, making way for new people.

"The circle of life," Spilly corrected him. (She later sang the song all the way home in the car, quite loudly.)

We were all quiet for awhile.

Then Spills said, "You know what?"

"What?" we said.

"To the people who aren't born yet, we're like the Ancient Romans."

We've also been talking about ancient Rome lately.

"I love you," I said.

Our Latest Wildlife Encounter

Well, we took off on another biking odyssey today, this time from the town of Erin to the town of Hillsborough. Along the way, we stopped for some water. While we were enjoying the frigid temperatures and shivering blossoms, Spills suddenly said, "What's that bird doing?"

We all looked. It was sashaying across the road, stopping every few minutes to do disco-like moves.

"Is it looking for food?" Spilly asked.

Daddy said, "I think it's looking for love."

It did seem to be doing some kind of ritualized dance, bobbing up and down rakishly before hopping ahead a little, then shimmying some more.

"Maybe he has a girlfriend on the other side," I said.

"Maybe she likes dancing," Spills said.

And we all laughed at a girlfriend bird who liked her boyfriend to dance.

But it got me to thinking about my hubby and his own courtship of me (since it's our eleventh anniversary next week). How much sillier was it for him to lure me into playing Poohsticks off the bridge at the University of Western Ontario, to name a church "The Church of the Bouncing Brushes" because we had been going by it when a truck zoomed past with brushes bouncing off the back, or to lavish unusual snacks on me ("I call it a cheese and bacon nibble") or to write me multiple silly letters a day--some that were "scratch and sniff"--while I was in England with my parents?

These foolish boys, they will do anything to catch a girl.