How Erin and I wrecked the halls: The 12 Days of Christmas in interpretive dance

Yet another fiasco that can be attributed to Katriel's selfish decision to vacation in Japan last summer:  The annual elementary Christmas program. 

So, there I was, against my will, at the school summer meeting as Katriel's proxy and the 4th grade representative, seated...reluctantly...next to Erin who has been the director of the Christmas program for the past 14 years.  Who bullies me into participating every year. Who routinely casts me, for no reason that I can understand, as the villain. Maybe, I reflectively wondered, methodically working my way through the snacks my administrator had provided,  I was here for a reason. Maybe, I meditated, pausing to sip a second juice pouch, this was an opportunity to determine my own fate.

I was annoyed to discover that Erin was quite receptive to most of my suggestions (except the one to cancel the program altogether). I stole every idea from the interweb. Easy to implement. No props. No costumes. LOW maintenance. 

I forgot to factor in one important element:

Erin.

Erin. Who likes to be prepared. Who thrives on lists and schedules and communication. Who likes to practice.

Practice what? I asked, grumpily attending one of her millions of unnecessary rehearsals.

And then, suddenly...it was go-time. We were one week out...

Which is when I kick in.

I added three transition skits to bridge our program, I texted Erin.

"Did you text me last night at 2 am?" she asked me the next morning.

"Wouldn't it be nice if we had a slideshow of festive staff pictures rolling on the screen as the children entered the auditorium?" I asked her, less than four days before the performance. "Sure," Erin agreed, "if you think we have time." Boom! Our friend, Jordan popped into gear and set up a display in the faculty room while I stood outside and bulldog-ed people into it. 

"Do you know how to set up a slideshow?" Erin asked dubiously as Katriel tried to avoid making eye contact with me. But, before we knew it, we had two enthusiastic volunteers (Thank you, Jordan and Sarah) so Katriel could concentrate on the rest of the to-do list I had given her. 

We held an easy-going rehearsal the day before the assembly.

As the bell choir concentrated on their music, I screamed at them to smile and act like they were having fun. "Show some flair!" I shouted. "Be dramatic." Certain cast members waiting their turn on stage made unnecessarily derogatory comments about my dramaticism. "It's called directing, " I snapped as Erin stepped in to assure the bell choir that they were perfect and to thank everyone for taking time out of their hectic schedules to provide a magical experience for the children. I choked back some bile as she sweetly piled it on.

The day of the assembly arrived and Erin and I found ourselves frantically composing a hand-written itinerary to list everything we had stuffed into this ridiculous program. "When do we present the "Magic Cups" routine?" I asked. "After the 3rd grade choir performs but before the Gentlemen of Lockwood Elementary do their SNL-inspired act," she said, watching me draw arrows and scribble like crazy. "What about the Rebus puzzle transition?" Erin stared off into space and tilted her Who-ville haired head. "After the 4th grade chorus but before The Twelve-Days-of-Christmas-in-interpretive-dance number," she remembered, before adding, "Good thing we kept this super-simple."

With a few (expected) last minute hitches (We lost our assigned emcee, our principal, because she was
dressed as a goose-a-layin' so our vice principal was just going to have to wing it.), we were ready for the big show.

Erin and I began...knocking out days number one through three which concluded with her leaping onto my back for an energetic KA-KAW for the partridge in a pear tree. It was going to be a LONG song. Day Four signaled a surge of additional actors.

Our cast of characters for The Twelve-Days-of-Christmas-in-interpretive-dance number apparently forgot the beauty of our simple program:  Our no-props, no practice, no problem philosophy flew right out the window. Our calling bird was busy fending off telemarketers from her Fisher Price phone, enticing her to buy an extended warranty (when she could actually GET a signal...she wandered all over the stage, shouting, "Can you hear me NOW?"). Our golden rings kept adding blinding bling throughout the song...plus they deviated from their assigned role to join our "lad-ie" dancing before breaking out some bongos for the drummers drumming. We knew we were really in treble when our actors armed with recorders piped up. Then Erin and I almost got taken out at the knees repeatedly as the swimming swans

swept by on scooters and the geese a-laying were shooting out eggs like a gatlin gun. We had to duck and cover. Our lord a-leapin' stole the show...he should have been cast in "Wicked" because that man could defy gravity! Tyler really seized the moo-ment...looking udderly ridiculous as he commandeered our stool to milk his imaginary cow. 

By the end of the song, we were all exhausted. Fortunately, our audience was equally exhausting from just watching us. 

We were relieved to finally hand over the reins to Santa. We have so much to learn from THAT guy. He rode out on his sleigh to roof-raising roars, waved, and then ho-ho-ho-ed his way out of there. 

I finally made it back to my 4th graders. "Mrs. Mosiman! Did you see Santa? Wasn't he great?" they exclaimed happily. I agreed that Santa was truly spectacular. "What did you think of my performance?" I asked, shamelessly begging for a compliment. "Were you on stage? Did you get to meet him?" they answered, Santa-stars still shining in their eyes. 

Dash it all! That's it...I quit.

My elf-esteem just couldn't handle the cold shoulder. 

"Enough of the resting Grinch face," Erin said, nudging me. "You know we don't do this for the accolades. We do it for the kids. You should feel proud."

I put my arm around her shoulder and pulled her closer. Passers-by smiled as they saw us sharing a warm moment of comradery. Erin leaned in as I whispered in her ear, "Get the elf off my back."

She laughed, "Amy, don't claus a scene."

That's a wrap, everyone.