Butterfly

We had tickets to Madame Butterfly with Ballet West last night. There were three tickets, and naturally, all the kids fought over them. Each one of them had a burning desire to go to the ballet and be edified and uplifted by a story they know is one tht always makes me cry at the end. Freestone quickly dressed in his tux; the one with tails. One by one, they approached me with their well-thought-out reasons they should be chosen. I finally selected Freestone and Ari based on their clever essays, "Why I should go to the Ballet."

Oh, wait. That's not what happened. Let me start over. We had three tickets to the ballet. Scott can't walk, Golda had Music Man, and Ruby tearfully begged to stay home and watch sports with Daddy. That left the second string concertgoers, Ari and Freestone. When I told them they were the lucky ones chosen to see Madame Butterfly, Freestone started bawling and Ari ran and got dressed in a hideous combination of dresses, leggings, headbands and sweaters. We didn't leave nearly enough time to have dinner, fetch everything Scott needed, get dressed, get Golda's ringlets done and put Xanthe to bed. I definitely didn't plan time for losing the tickets on the way out the door or having to carry Freestone outside with no clothes on and throw him in the car. So halfway up the street, running late, I looked at myself in the mirror and was horrified to see wet hair and mascara-stained cheeks. Oops.

Freestone was in the backseat howling like a lost bear cub. Every few minutes, he stifled a howl long enough to ask in a pleading voice, "Is it long?" I told him it was short and there were treats at intermission. It wasn't a lie; time is relative. Once we were in our seats, I gave the run-down: No talking, no whispering, no squirming. Do not move a muscle. Much to my relief, both kids had a good view of the stage and acted very nice throughout. There were treats at intermission and tears at the end (mine). In other words, a complete success. I was gratified to see Freestone on the edge of his seat during the final scene, even if it was because I told him Cio-Cio San was going to stab herself with a huge sword.

I was reminded of what a sacrifice it must have been for my parents to take the whole family to so many operas, ballets and concerts. I can't imagine them having had an intense desire to take three little kids to all those performances, but they're still at it, inviting my kids to the opera and calling to tell us when a concert comes up we might want to see. In the end, after dressing my howling bear cub in the car and leaving the rest of the kids behind in chaos with a parent on crutches, it was worth it to hear the music and see the dance and relive the characters' angst. On the way home, I asked Freestone what his favorite part was. Of course his reply was, "None of it." My reply would have been, "All of it."