Last week my mother-in-law treated her two oldest grandchildren and their mothers to discover what Elmo wants to be when he grows up in Sesame Street Live at the Fox Theatre. (Melissa came down with the flu that day, so it was just my MIL, Kayla, Dylan and me.)
We had a really great time and realized what truly well-behaved and wonderful children Kayla and Dylan really are. This became apparent after the 15 minute intermission, when 95% of the children in the theatre commenced screaming, crying and general tantrum-throwing. Not our angels. They sat mesmerized by the lights, music and creepy, oversized Sesame Street characters.
But I'm getting ahead of myself.
After our arrival, we settled into our seats with plenty of time to spare. Grammie took Kayla to the bathroom for me while I sat with the cutest little Dylan in the world. Five minutes before the show was scheduled to start, Big Bird announced that the show would start in 15 minutes. What in the world, folks? We're dealing with very young children who don't fully comprehend delays.
Anyway, it was at that point, that the family of 15 (I exaggerate, but at the time it felt like that many) squeezed their way into the row directly behind us. The dad attempted to flatten himself up against my chair in an effort to allow his brood to file by. Said flattening resulted in his rear end perching on my shoulder. I glanced over to my mother-in-law, wearing my all too familiar "you're-kidding-me-right?"-face, and gestured with my eyes to the man's gluteus maximus resting right next to my face. She found the whole scenario way more amusing than necessary.
After Dad removed his posterior from my personal comfort zone, Junior -who was probably 3 years old- decided to join me for the show. Seriously, the kid leaned between the chairs the entire show and was at any given point either on my shoulder (like father, like son) or at my elbow.
Then he began coughing. Fabulous.
Later in the performance, the baby that was on the Mom's lap seated directly behind my mother-in-law, decided to take a handful of Karen's hair and give a great big yank.
Other than that nonsense, like I said at the beginning of this post, I really had a good time. At one point I was overcome by a really weird set of weepy emotions as Kayla snuggled on my lap while we watched Abby Cadabby sing a cover of Vanessa Carlton's "A Thousand Miles." I think I was having a moment where I really missed my mom.
After the show ended, I took Kayla to the bathroom before we began the trip home - where inevitably I'd hear from the back seat at the worst possible point "Moommmm! I have to go potty real bad!"
My stringent rule-following eldest daughter, bless her heart, informed me that 1) I walked down the wrong side of the stairs, ("That side is for the people coming up!"), 2) that we needed to use the exact same stall that she and Grammie had used earlier, and 3) how the sink faucets worked.
And right now, as I write this entry, Kayla is informing me of all the things her younger sister is doing wrong. Ah, firstborns.