There was the traditional Christmas pageant, with fluttering angels, shepherds sword fighting with shepherds' crooks, a king with stage fright replaced by his older brother, and a Mary who kept tugging at her veil in a vain attempt to keep it from popping off her head.
There was the preschool concert where three-quarters of the parents left their seats to crouch on the floor in an attempt to get somewhat close enough to use their cell phone cameras.
There was the violin recital where I had the completely self-assured youngest soloist (age 4) as well as the silently weeping older sister (age 6) who suddenly realized that she could have played at the recital if she had continued her cello lessons this fall.
Finally, there was the lower grade school Christmas pageant featuring different sorts of angels -- divas, hippies, yuppies, stars, hollies, and cowboys -- all sent to nowhere town Bethlehem and learn about the importance of Christmas.
I got an email from another parent this morning, asking to borrow my video tape because his video camera seized up during the first act, just before his son's speaking line.
Merry Christmas! And this was with just two Monkeys. Next year we'll have a nine-month-old to pull over the Christmas tree in the mix.
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