I'm Lindsay Ferrier, a Nashville writer with a passion for family travel, exploring Tennessee, and raising kids without losing my mind in the process. This is where I share my discoveries, along with occasional deep thoughts, pop culture tangents and a sprinkling of snark. Want to get in touch? Use the CONTACT form at the top of the page.
December 19, 2011
One of our annual Christmas traditions is attending our city ballet’s performance of “The Nutcracker.”
Ordinarily, Punky and I go with friends, but this year I decided that Bruiser was finally old enough for his first Nutcracker performance — and so last night, my husband, son, daughter and I all went to see the ballet together.
Things started out great — The kids each chose a Nutcracker ornament and bought sweet treats to eat before the show. Photos were made and everyone was jolly.
During the first act, the merriment continued. Bruiser was enthralled by the Nutcracker’s soldiers battling against the Mouse King and his army. He even liked the Snow Fairies’ scene that ended Act I, since it included snow falling on the stage. And when the lights went up, both kids were smiling and ready to head back out into the night.
There was only one problem.
It was intermission.
We bought the kids more treats and stepped outside for a few minutes to escape the stuffy heat of the auditorium. But when it was time to go back inside, the kids rebelled. They were sleepy. They were hot. They needed to go to the bathroom. AGAIN.
“Please stay for the second act,” I whispered to Punky as she pouted beside me. “This is one of my favorite things to do at Christmas time. I’ll never make you go again. I promise.”
“I do want to come again,” she said. “It’s just so hot in here, and I’m so sleepy.” She was right. The day had warmed up, but the heater clearly was still set for the freezing cold temperatures we’d had earlier in the week. As a result, we were all roasting. When the lights went down, I handed my husband a program and we each fanned a child. Feeling the breeze, they grew quiet and settled down in their seats. Several parents around us saw what we were doing and began fanning their kids as well.
And then the Sugar Plum Fairy and her Cavalier emerged.
“Is this the guy?” my husband whispered. He had heard stories about the male dancer I’ve referred to as “The Buttcracker” for the last four years.
“Yes,” I said. He snickered. “Oh you haven’t seen anything yet,” I murmured. “Just wait ’til he turns around.”
A few seconds passed as the Sugar Plum Fairy and her Cavalier danced together. And then, he turned his back to the audience.
My husband gasped and I giggled. Just as in years past, the dancer’s enormously muscular backside was prominently displayed in a pair of flesh-colored tights. And, just as in years, past, the man had a major wedgie.”Susan says she’s sure he’s breaking all kinds of public indecency laws,” I whispered.
Meanwhile, lulled by the heat, the brightly-colored dancers and the sweet music, the children had practically become catatonic beside us. They sat through the Sugar Plum Fairy and Cavalier’s pas de deux. They sat through the various candy presentations. They sat through the Cavalier’s solo, and they sat through the Sugar Plum Fairy’s solo. “IS IT THE END?” Bruiser whispered loudly. “Almost,” I whispered back. Then, the Sugar Plum Fairy and her cavalier returned to the stage and began another dance together, and Bruiser stood up abruptly.
“NOT AGAIN!” he roared indignantly. The audience erupted in laughter as I shushed him.
Uh. Maybe Bruiser isn’t old enough after all….
Image via Crunchy Footsteps/Flickr