Snow Chicken

Dear Laney,

Last Monday, the plan was for you to stay after school to audition for the school play. The Missoula Children's Theatre would be coming to your school to put on a production of The Snow Queen. That's pretty much all we knew. 

You came out of school at the bell and told me that you had thought about it, and you did NOT want to audition. "I'm too shy," you said. "OK. We have half an hour 'til the auditions start," I said. "Why don't we sit here and talk about it for a minute?" I told you that I thought if you didn't audition, you would end up going to see the play and looking at all the kids up there on stage having fun, and you'd regret that you hadn't done it. "I won't sugar-coat it," I said, "The role of the Snow Queen will probably go to a big fourth grader, but even if you end up playing a snowflake or a tree, it'll be fun to do it with your friends. If you don't want to do it because you don't think it will be fun, or you're just not interested, that's cool. We'll go home. But don't ever sit something out just because you're nervous. The way I see it, this is a no-lose situation for you. If you get a big, fun role: great! If you get a tiny role: your whole family is still going to come see the play and cheer like crazy. If you don't get cast in the play: I will take you out for chicken tacos."

I am the Vince Lombardi of elementary school theatre pep talks. 

It was probably the promise of chicken tacos that sealed the deal, and you decided to audition. Like every other first grader who tried out, you were cast as a Snow Chicken, which means you were in a little blue feathered group with the rest of your friends. 

Auditions were Monday, rehearsals were Tuesday through Thursday, and the play was Friday. On the evening of the show, I walked you and your good friend Laila to the school to report for chicken duty. You told me not to take your picture, but I snuck this one over my shoulder.

I wish I could tell you what the plot of the show was, but there were no microphones and everyone was a little nervous and elementary schoolers only project when they really want something in the grocery store and their mamas are trying to ignore them. You had a great time up there, though:

Your brother went and paid attention, and Grandma Sue tried to explain what was going on to him, though none of us were really sure. Took me half the show to figure out the Snow Queen was a bad guy.

You celebrated opening night with a Spongebob popsicle, and you asked me "WHEN IS THE NEXT ONE!?!" leading us to believe there will be more plays in our future.

I looked at your dad and shrugged, "Well, it's probably better than soccer."

Congratulations on being brave and conquering your fear and being the cutest little Snow Chicken I've ever seen.

Love,

Mom