The end-of-year concert
Look, I’m going to ask you something that you might feel uncomfortable admitting out loud but, seriously, how much did you enjoy your (small) child’s end-of-year concert?
I’m not talking about the older children who have both some musical ability and some idea of what they’re supposed to do on stage, but about the littlest ones – the ones who’re shoe-horned into a ‘cute’ costume and then shuffle on stage, covered so heavily that the only way you can identify your own progeny is if they have an identifiable tic, and who then mumble at the floor so quietly they’re completely drowned out by the over-enthusiastic pianist, who’s bashing that keyboard not just with gusto, but with a smile so bright she could be advertising dentures.
That sort of concert.
The one where you’ve taken the whole morning off work so you can be available to listen at 10.30am (having done drop-off at 7.30am and before you do pickup at 1pm), and then you have to sit through 2,000 other classes doing their rendition of You Bring Me Sunshine and the Techno Chicken before your own sweetie-pie comes on.
You strain to hear through all the other bored mummies who’re chatting over the classes that aren’t theirs; strain to see past all the proud dads videoing on their iPads; struggle to identify a tune so you can prove you were actually there to a child who can’t identify you in the crowd of thousands – and then you discover you’ve been watching the wrong kid all along.
So, tell me now: did you really enjoy the end of year concert? Or am I missing something?