After the Play

A brief word about my son, Connor.

He's 13 now, and in 7th grade.  All year, we've struggled with him as he worked to find a way to juggle his homework and activities and put proper priorities on what needed to be done.  Fortunately, he's a smart, sweet kid, and truly wants to do the right things.  After an awful lot of hair-pulling and teeth-gnashing, he found his groove and got all A's and B's on his last report card, and is on track to making similar grades this time around.

Last night, I finally got to watch him in Schoolhouse Rock, Jr., the school play.  He had initially been somewhat indifferent to theater, actually making a c at some point in there previously.  I mean seriously...if you know him, you'd think that he'd be teaching the class, not bombing it.  We tried and tried to tell him that if he just tried to put some effort into it, really worked for a part on the stage rather than the behind-the-scenes crew, that he might really have some fun out there.  Yeah, yeah, yeah, you know how kids are, and he just scraped along.  At least, until this play came up.

He put a little more stink on things and tried harder at auditions.  He made it into the ensemble, which is basically a whole bunch of kids running around and singing together.  For the past several weeks, he's been dutifully going to rehearsals, working hard, AND keeping his grades up.  Showtime finally arrived, and he performed for the first time on Thursday.  I was teaching, so I had to wait until Friday to see him.  It was absolutely wonderful.

Connor committed 100% on stage, pulling all the right faces, throwing all the right moves, and singing his guts out.  No longer was he worried about looking silly, he got up there and owned his performance.  I laughed and laughed, I was absolutely delighted to see him in the show.  It made my heart swell up, truly.

Later, we all ate at the Chinese buffet and had a chance to talk about theater, school, girls, friend-zones and relationships, and all kinds of fun things.  We hadn't been to the buffet in awhile and I was pleasantly stuffed.  Christina went to find more salad or something and I had a chance to sit alone with Connor for a few minutes.  We were chatting happily and I took a moment to watch him eat.  There, sitting across from me, eating a giant pile of rice, was my son.  Only 3lbs or so at birth, he's now taller than I am.  I suddenly saw his newborn body in the NICU, tiny, but strong.  I saw him taking his first steps.  I remembered running behind him, my hand twisted up in his shirt to hold him up as he learned to ride a bike.  Then there he was, bravely going down the tallest waterslide in Branson only to refuse to go down it the next day.  I saw him playing lacrosse and hating it, but having a blast in swim team and bumping fists with all the other swimmers to wish them luck.  I saw him taking the ice bucket challenge with me and howling about how the ice water was reaching his crotch.  And I saw him sitting there, behind his new glasses, reading something on his phone, and shoveling Chinese food into his mouth as if it were a race.

With tears in my eyes, I told him that I although I may miss the 9 year old kid that he used to be...I am thrilled to my core to see the young man that he has become.  I sure love that kid.