Day in the Life of an Idiot

Mason and I went to the MomCulture jazz duo performance at the McPhail Center yesterday.   We’d been advised to bring two dollars to pay for parking in the lot, but when Mason and I arrived (fifteen minutes prior to the show) the lot was full.  I made the decision to park on the street at a meter, even though I only had fifteen minutes worth of quarters in the ashtray.  Once again, Mason and I were popular because we brought crayons and activity books – Glom and his mom were there.  Glom, once again, decided that Mason and I were better than sliced bread.  In fact, the second he saw us, he said, “Oh, what did you guys bring this time to play with?”

            This room actually had a stage, though they set it up lunchroom style again, with long tables.  I think the stage worked to their disadvantage, in a way, because the musicians acted slightly more aloof.  Mason saw the trumpet player in the hall when we had a pre-show potty run, and greeted him with his usual, enthusiastic, “Hello, Trumpet Player!” and got a rather startled “Hello” in response.  The trumpeter, to his credit, was very kid-friendly – he had very cool hair, a kind of Mohawk – and he was great at getting audience participation once the show started, but, unlike the divas (ironic, eh?), both he and the piano player kind of disappeared once the show was over and didn’t really invite much admiration or 4-year-old discussion.

            Mason also wore out of this show a lot sooner.  About half-way through, he was ready for his snack, and loudly announced that he thought it must be time to go home.  But, he was still quite impressed with the first number, particularly the wa-wa attachment the trumpet player had.  He did garner one of the more precious moments in the show, though, too, which was when the trumpet player explained that we could clap, hoot, or shout whenever we heard anything we liked, and then demonstrated when that would be appropriate by leading a solo.  At the end of the solo, Mason not only clapped, but also shouted at the top of his lungs, “I LOVED THAT!”  Everyone laughed. 

            I encouraged Mason and Glom to do a little dancing, which they did with abandon, but Mason didn’t have nearly the staying power he had with the opera.  I think part of the problem might have been the stage and our nearness to it, which is to say, I think we chose spots too far away.  Also, if I had been the organizers, I might have actually made a little spot near the front for kids to dance, and told parents to let their kids gambol, you know?  

            Plus, I think I need to feed Mason before we go.  Even though it was perfectly fine for him to snack when he wanted to at the table, I think he might have had more focus for the music if he wasn’t hungry.  Or maybe pianos and trumpets just aren’t his thing.

            After all, who knew opera singers were?