40 Winks Til Christmas. and whales.

It was hot and stinky. Kacie was climbing on my face, and Dani was discussing with Emelia who was the most popular in the 4th grade. Both trying to beat eachother's best Napolean Dynamite impersonation. Funny...for the first 20 minutes. Gosh.

The eager parents and their oversized camera bags seemed to fit nicely in the water closet sized gymnasium of our Elementary School. Everyone had a place...in the aisle or against a wall. Or on the floor. If you were prompt and efficient in being 1 hour early, you got a seat.

Then the hush of chaos as our comfy little Tetris grid was rocked by a stream of cute little 1st and 2nd graders in festive pajamas filling the bleachers. Parents stood, cameras flashed, cuties waved with grins bigger than my headache. Understood. Everyone wants to see their kid. And in the chlosterphobic nightmare, go ahead, stand for a minute.

I made good eye contact with Jake, blew a kiss and kept my place, being careful not to raise my camera too high and block the view of the sea of raging parental pride behind me.

Did I mention it was hot?

Jake had the introduction. I couldn't see him, so I did indeed raise my camera a few inches past the point of no respect to perhaps get a shot of his adorable animation as I listened to the voice of my sweet boy. I had to do what I had to do to get the video for daddy, who was coaching Andy's basketball team.

As Jake returned to his place, 5th spot 3 rows down, I put the camera away and listened, because I couldn't see anything, and I'd get annoyed at the parent who was letting their kid stand on the chair right in front of the 5th spot 3 rows down if I tried. To see.

So I listened, and spent quality time hushing the Napolean's and peeling Kacie off my face...and watching the lady a row in front of me, stand. The whole time. In a chair seat.

There was drama.

A few parents asked her out loud to sit down. Repeatedly. Some nicely, some not. Most parents just grumbled obsenities as she ignored every request. Some moved, clogging other crowded corners. She responded at one point by turning around and informing the congregation that if they wanted to see they could stand up, too.

And she stood.
She was widely unliked.

I was a little disturbed.

So as I heard the program, I watched her. And wondered what her story was.

I think she grew up in a normal home. According to whatever normal you choose. She had kids early (she didn't look very old), thus giving up her dream of saving whales so she could be home to raise her young family. I didn't see a dad, so I think he works nights. Missing his youngest's first Christmas program, and sad about it. I can respect that.

And maybe her son has had some behavior, or health problems. And she's really proud of him for wearing the red pj's instead of the black ones. And they spent all afternoon making his Santa hat together. And she just couldn't hold back the tears as she tried to mentally document the evening for her over-worked and absent husband, so they could reinact the good parts when he's home on Christmas Eve. And maybe she chose to stand in a chair seat instead of against the wall because she was desperate for her other children to stay and support their younger brother and not sneak off for a soda. Or a smoke. So she locked them in the middle section, and stood, praying that others would understand. But we didn't.

The real story {whatever it is} may not justifiy the action, but it isn't my job to judge that. I'm no author of justice. I can just write a story. Or invite her to lunch.

So whales are what I chose for her, as I watched her stand.

And listened to my Jakey.



He's the moral of the story.