An Instinct Short.
There's an article in the news about parents having to pay to go to see their child's nativity play so that the school can use the money to purchase education equipment. The parents are in uproar! Casting my mind back to the horrors of school nativity plays I would have cheerfully stumped up the money not to have to sit through one (or any of them)!
When the beloved Sproglet was made the Virgin Mary for one of those plays her mother had to make her costume!!! Ok - not that difficult. Some other parent supplied the doll for the Baby Jesus. Not only did said doll look like something Popeye had sired but its anatomy had taken a bit of a battering. Subsequently, the Virgin Mary shuffled on to the stage in an outfit that was at least two sizes too big for her (I never said I was a good dressmaker)!! and slumped onto a chair whilst hanging on to the doll for dear life. At this point Baby Jesus lost his head. There was a loud thump as his head hit the stage followed by more thumps as it rolled off it and then proceeded to roll across the floor. One member of the audience corpsed - I won't say who but I imagine you can guess which parent let the side down! Joseph, poor lamb, had one helluva speech impediment and . . . none of us laughed. We just sat there waiting for him to get: "is there any room in the inn?" out. When the shepherds arrived the small one on the end was almost in the wings and off the stage. He scratched continuously and not only that the poor thing had a . . . bit of an aroma shall we say! So you had two other shepherds, three kings, one angel and a distraught husband all trying to speak and/or holding their noses or trying not to breathe. I'm proud to say small Sproglet took all this in her stride and gamely continued giving the impression of a small child hanging on to a doll ((and its head) as if it was a rugby ball and turning a blind eye (and nose) to the third shepherd! The play finished with a rendition of 'Away in a Manger' sung by a motley crew of unmusical children. It brought tears to my eyes . . . for all the wrong reasons.
There were so many concerts - I've tried to forget the agony of most of them but in my latter years I've come to the conclusion that my maternal instinct is decidedly off kilter or, possibly, missing altogether! Most parents would have been pleased as punch to see their little lambs providing entertainment for them where as I hated these events with a passion.