We went to Vaughn's first attendance of a theatrical production last night. Christmas at the Pops or something. It was my mother-in-law's idea. We got there a little late because of the rare occurrence of a "snow storm," which generally entails some freezing rain and 1/8 inch of snow.
When they let us in for the next performance, our ears were assailed by this screeching of "O Holy Night." I'm sitting there thinking, "I majored in music around here. I went to student recitals that were stratospheres above this. This is the best they could come up with among classical singers in Portland? I guess Portland really is a small town." I'm scouring the program guide trying to find what the background on this person is, making a note to never bother getting season tickets for the Portland Opera. Then I see it, put two and two together, and realize this is their Featured Celebrity, some local media personality that has been around for decades. Okay. Pleeaaasseee tell me she paid to perform because otherwise she should be shot for subjecting us to not one but three agonizing performances (the first of which, thankfully, we were spared because we were late), ending with the butchering of "Baby It's Cold Outside." My mother-in-law was so suprised--"I didn't know she could sing!" Well, evidently, for good reason...She can't.
With the exception of these atrocities, the rest of the program was quite enjoyable, that is, when they brought out the REAL singers and professionals. There was an awesome performance of "Christmas Carol" where one actor did the narration (more like one-man performance) while various characters pantomimed his dialogue. I felt my thirst for theater reemerging, and I actually got a little choked up reminiscing about my thespian days. Yet another thing I abandoned when I got married. Ah well.
After that, my mother-in-law had the truly ludicrous idea of finishing the evening with an intimate dinner at an expensive posh restaurant, you know, just the place you take a 3-year-old. She's always coming up with stuff like this. I really don't get it. Were her mothering days so in the distant past that she doesn't realize that rather than a nice adult treat this is cruel and unusual punishment to subject us and, consequently, all the other ADULT diners to---a tired, hungry, hyperactive 3-year-old?
So, I'm scanning the menu looking for something--anything--that my son will at least attempt to eat. Of course, this is after he has made his order of chicken nuggets and fries. Fortunately, the waiter did offer that there was a burger they could come up with that wasn't listed on the menu. Of course.
In the meantime, to keep Vaughn entertained while we were waiting for our meals, I decided to grab him for a photo op in front of the restaurant's Christmas tree. At that point, evidently inspired by the Christmas program we'd just seen, he decided to give me an encore performance from his preschool Christmas pageant, singing the ever popular "O Come Let Us Adore Him," complete with hand motions, which included his Baby Jesus Boogie--the sign language for Jesus, but adding in the hips, boogying down with the driving in of each nail sign into his palm.
So...He does know how to move his hips.
Thankfully, after what seemed like several hours of corralling Vaughn, our meals arrived. I had ordered the aged Black Angus steak. Now, this is the second time I've eaten in this restaurant and had to choke down what I ordered. What is it about aged Black Angus that tastes like what I imagine feces would taste like? Anyway, I made up for it by getting blitzed on martinis and left the rest of the childcare to Daddy.
Of course, no expensive meal can be complete without a little voice announcing loudly, "I NEED TO GO POOP!" And then, after returning from completing his task, loudly giving us a full detailed description of the product of his efforts, "IT WAS A REALLLYYY BIIGGGGG, LOONNGGGG POOP!"
All things considered, Vaughn did amazingly well; nevertheless, the bites on my tongue are still healing from my chewing the inside of my mouth from anxiety. At least the alcohol deadened it.
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