Gratuitous Domestic Holiday Posting

(Yes, I'm writing about this stuff, but that's because this is what's happening in my life these days.)

Sunday afternoon was our Church's Christmas Pageant. As I mentioned some time a while back, all three Llama-ettes were participants this year. The eldest was a shepherd (it's too bad there were no centurions at the Nativity, as this role would have suited her better), the middle one an angel (quite true to type) and the youngest a lion (also quite true to type). (Bonus Llama Picture Posting: Go here to see my Church's homepage. The photos cycle in and out. You'll eventually see a picture of a little girl and a dark-haired woman. That's the youngest Llama-ette and the Butcher's Wife.)

For years I've been trying to get our Rector to confess that this is one of the hardest services of the year for him, what with a large mob of young kids having to be herded in and placed about the alter all at the same time a play of sorts is being staged. But as I watched, it occured to me that I have been somewhat mistaken. In fact, all the Rev. Ed has to do is sit there looking interested - it's the Youth Education staff and parents that have to do the grunt work. I myself got tagged to usher the service. In fact, we had way too many ushers, so I didn't have that much to do. But since working the pagent takes me out of the rotation for the Christmas Eve services, which are invariably zoo-like, I'm not complaining in the least.

Anyhoo, the pageant went pretty much like every other kiddy pageant I've ever seen. My oldest walked in sporting a painted-on beard which looked perfectly foul and, for some reason, reminded me of Julie Andrews in Victor/Victoria. My four year old was beaming like a lighthouse, as is her wont. She has fairly pale blue eyes, but you'd never know it, as when she gets excited her pupils dilate something fierce. The big black marbles were in full force and effect here. The two year old was one of the last to go up, flanked by an ass and an ox (the ass bore a suspicious resemblance to Eeyore and the ox to Elsie, but let it go). Since she was one of the last of the procession, she took a spot on the alter steps on the outskirts of the maelstrom.

As the pageant wound its lazy course, the two older girls sang enthusiastically and generally enjoyed themselves. However, I could see that the youngest was running out of steam. She laid her arms on the step above her, put her head down and started to doze. Because the floor is wooden and she was wearing a fur suit, her head and arms slowly started sliding farther and farther along the stair. Spotting this and knowing exactly what was about to happen, I quietly started to swoop up the aisle from my ushering post in the back. I was about two thirds of the way up when her arms finally slipped off the stair and her head came down with an audible thunk. This woke her up and she spent several seconds blinking and looking about her like a disoriented owl. Before she could make up her mind whether she was upset or not, I grabbed her and removed her to the rear. Fortunately, my quick response headed off any outbursts, and we spent the rest of the service pom-pomming along with the music in between trips to the water fountain.

After the pageant, there was a reception thingy in the hall downstairs, at which Santa made an appearance. All of the gels managed to get candy canes from him this year, no mean trick what with the scrum that usually forms around him. On the way home, the two older girls peppered me with questions about Santa's operations:

"How can Santa get around the world from the North Pole so fast?"

"Magic."

"If he's so big, how can he get down those little chimneys?"

"Magic."

"How can his reindeer fly?"

"Magic."

At this point, my six year old said, "So your answer to everything is 'magic," isn't it?"

I replied, "Yup, pretty much."

That held her for a while as she thought it through. I'm happy to say that she's not yet at the point where she actually disbelieves me. Hopefully, things will stay that way for a few more years.