I’m like a meerkat watching mine. Mine being my son, the Innkeeper. Not a starring role, but there’s always next year and maybe I’ll join the PTA.
I shouldn’t, but I only have eyes for one. And seated next to me they’re leaning forward. My peripheral vision is blurred by an iPad. I can’t see my Innkeeper. I can’t see him. There are now hundreds of them on stage. Where is he? Stop leaning. Is it me or is it very hot in here? Oh, “there he is.” My son, my first born. Born in an NHS stable. I can see him. It must be the star.
My Arafat in the distance. Across the stage, my red tea towel dons his beautiful head. And I relax happily into my seat. They’re leaning forward. Not again. In the spirit of Christmas, shouldn’t we be sharing?
So, I’m leaning and stretching and doing the down dog, just to catch a glimpse of his singing. “Bumpty bumpty bump, riding on a camel”, I could have sworn it was a donkey…bumpty bumpty bump, looking for the baby Jesus.” My heart soars at every line, as I sing silently along. There in the distance, stretched across the plains, i.e the stage, my son.
This is it. The first school nativity play.
“Oh lovely, the angels are here to guide the way.” “That’s nice.” Awwhh….just a little to the left sweeties, I can’t see my keeper. Just a few steps. There are hundreds of them, like Andrex littering the stage. There are only four innkeepers, you’re doing alright son. Next up the wise men; Goldie, Frankie and I never can remember the last one.
They’re all so cute and lovely, but to be honest it’s tunnel vision and I’m planked at the wrong side of the room. Joseph and Mary are centre stage and the baby is away in a Manger, but my little innkeeper like everyone else’s Andrex, wise men and the camel that should be a donkey, is all that I can see and a star is born.