Last night was Kitty’s preschool program. I was scared. I’ll tell you why.
Lizzy, my oldest child, loves to perform. She has wanted to be in every talent show she has ever heard of, starting at a very young age. In her school choir, she tries out for every solo available. She is devastated when she is not picked. She takes performing seriously.
Bennet is generally not as interested in being the center of attention. But, his older sister’s influence is strong enough that he has performed in a few talent shows. But, he doesn’t seek the limelight like Lizzy.
Jane hates it. During performances, she will do her part, but she doesn’t want to draw any attention to herself.
Then there’s Kitty. Kitty is the class clown. She wants to make people laugh. If she can get her siblings laughing at something she did or said, she is in heaven. She eats it up. She doesn’t just want to be looked at, she wants to be laughed at. Future comedian?
So, back to her preschool program… the practices hadn’t been very promising. She didn’t get a lollipop (the reward for good behavior) after the first one. Because her teacher is kind, she didn’t want to come right out and say, “She didn’t get a lollipop because she is horrible.” Instead she said, “Kitty and another boy had a hard time listening.”
I talked to her about how she was supposed to act, and that she needed to behave to get a lollipop. She needed to stand and sing the songs and listen to her teachers. She promised she would be good.
And so last night, as the cute little 3 and 4 year olds filed into the chapel, I was nervous. The church was packed… I couldn’t see her because we were stuffed into the chapel like sardines. But, occasionally I would see her red arms flying around above the heads of the parents in front of me. This was while all the other children were standing quietly waiting for the program to start, of course. She was in the very front row for everyone to see. I started to sweat.
Then they started things off with a song involving jingle bells. The children were supposed to just stand and shake their bells adorably. Kitty and the boy next to her decided to chuck their bells down on the ground, lean over, pick them back up, then chuck them once again.
And it got worse from there. She was galloping back and forth, laughing and shouting. Her teachers kept having to send her back to her spot. I heard, although I couldn’t see, that towards the end she and the boy next to her kept diving down onto the stage over and over. She was that unruly kid at the program that I’ve always tsk tsked in my head, wondering what was wrong with that kid’s parents. “Can’t they control their child?!” Judging them for the bad parenting choices I was sure they were making.
That is one thing Kitty has taught me… not to be so judgey. I always wondered what kind of parents let their kids climb on the counters, start fires in their microwaves, or behave like a wild monkey during the Christmas program. Now I know.
We were trapped inside a row, out of her line of sight, powerless to stop her or even give her the “I’m Not Kidding, Stop That At Once” Evil Glare. Mr. Darcy and I kept hiding our faces in shame, and then bursting out in embarrassed laughing fits, and then occasionally calling out, “Whose kid IS that?!” to try and throw people off.
I took this video when she was supposed to be getting ready for bed. This is pretty much how she performed during the program. Hang in there for the ending. It is the best part.