Tale as old as time

Today I saw a play. Not just a play -- a musical. Is there such a thing as Off-Off-Off-Off-Off Broadway? My son's music class had a field trip to one of the local high schools to watch a production of Beauty and the Beast. I volunteered to be a bus minivan driver. You know, to spend time with my kid ... AND get to see a play. For free. (No, I don't get out much. Culture? What's that?)

Is it weird that I teared up at times during the performance? I venture to admit that I don't think it was the brilliant acting that moved me. (Not to discount the fact that Belle was played by an absolutely enchanting young lady with a beautiful, beautiful voice.) I chalk it up to stress. And something about being a mom. Watching these young people perform was such a pleasure - just knowing the amount of work and effort and dedication and teamwork it must take to put on a show like that just makes you want to beam with pride for them. As if I really were their mom.

Additionally, I, myself, never was much the performing type. (Shocking, I know.) My only foray into the world of theater being in 3rd grade, as the lead in Little Red Riding Hood, thank you very much. Having been such a self-conscious person by nature, I have great admiration for young people who have the audacity to get up on a stage and sing and dance their hearts out. It tugs at my heart.

Or maybe it's the stress.

The entire audience at today's performance was made up of elementary school students (very well-behaved elementary school students, I might proudly add). We must have been their dry run before they lift the curtain on the real performances for a paying audience. It was so much fun! I encourage you to seek out and attend some sort of high school production such as this. You'll laugh, you'll cry, your kid will be impressed with the skills of the high schooler on the snare drum - it's better than CATS.

My favorite part of the outing? I'm glad you asked.

It came at the end of the show, once the spell had been broken and the Beast returned to his previous state of being young, dashing, and uber-princely. Having professed their love, he and Belle gaze at one another ... and then they kiss.

Immediately after which, my son turns to me and whispers, aghast, "Did they really kiss?" "Yes," I replied (because from my vantage point, it certainly appeared so.) Upon receiving confirmation, he uttered some unintelligible syllable of shock and disgust.

When the actors lined up to take their final bow, we got a better look at the cast. My son took notice of the young man who played the dashing prince, a slender, delicate featured teenager with longish blonde hair, and said to me, "Is that a girl?" To which I replied, "No, it's a boy. He just has long hair." (And is SO pretty, I thought quietly to myself.)

"Oh," he says, still disturbed at having witnessed THE KISS. "It should have been a girl. Because if two girls kissed, it wouldn't be so frightening."

Now, call me old-fashioned or whatever, but a girl-on-girl kiss in a high school play performed for elementary kids would have been infinitely more frightening than the innocuous stage kiss we did see. But then, I'm not a 10-year-old boy.