As anyone who has ever had small children taking part in a nativity play can attest there is always much excitement in the maternal bosom when your child comes home with the dreaded piece of paper announcing their starring role in this year's event. Apart from anything else, this particular maternal bosom tends to droop rather when sewing is suggested (one year no 2 was a star and the request came back for a white shirt with stars sewn on it. I was rather pleased with my pathetic effort till I sat next to the mother whose child had a whole galaxy sewn neatly onto hers), it usually droops further to discover that yet again said child is playing an angel (that's what happens when you have fair haired girls) and has to be cheered up because she's not Gabriel or Mary.
What every maternal bosom of course wants to proudly declare is that this year their daughter is Mary - there is such hot competition for the part sometimes I swear there'll be blood spilt in the playground. However, I am a woman of common sense and I know that my children have no more chance of being Mary then flying to the moon. Besides, given that I always got to be a shepherd, I think they should be bloody grateful for being angels myself.
So imagine my surprise when no 3 came home from school yesterday with a big announcement.
Yup. After nine years of trying and watching more nativities nearly then I've had Christmas dinners I've finally achieved maternal nirvana. I have a Mary.
Better watch my back in the playground then...
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4 comments:
I was Mary at kindergarten when I was three. It's my finest acting achievement to date. I remained virginal and serene even when James Parker (Joseph) spilled orange juice all over Baby Jesus.
After that it was nothing but Gabriels after Gabriels - nobody else was taller than me, y'see, and apparently Gabriel had to look down from above.
I could have been Mary again. Sitting down. And someone else could have been Gabriel standing on a box...
Result!!!
Still can't believe none of mine ever got the starring roles.
Mutter, mutter.
I was a Mary. I can remember being grabbed by the scary nun headmistress a minute before show-time and being told to KEEP YOUR MOUTH CLOSED, as she'd just noticed that I was missing my two front teeth. And then there was Joseph, who walked so slowly down the hall and onto the stage that I felt like booting him. All in all I was not very suited to the part! My four year old had to be very heavily persuaded to accept the part of Angel recently by being offered the alternative of Helper (ie. sit next to the pianist and do nothing). She shone! Naturally...
Sorry not to reply to all you lovely people earlier, but it's been a tad busy around here.
Juliette love the idea of a sitting down Mary with Gabriel standing on a box.
JJ I know, I know, it's easy to get paranoid. But you never know your time might come (I never thought mine would!)
MumstheWord, love the closing your mouth story! As a child I would have killed to be an angel, but having dark hair was always relegated to being a shepherd...
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