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That pig has cajones.

You’re not a good parent if you don’t have a panic disorder.

To assuage my rampant guilt over all the attention G is getting right now, I took Shifty to a production of “If You Give a Pig a Party” at the theatre Saturday. My kids are intimidated by movies, so I thought stage productions would be a bit less overwhelming. I’ve only read the book “If You Give a Mouse a Cookie” and while I think constantly giving into the little rodent’s demands only serve to increase the tyrannical nature of the species, I strongly approve of his fastidiousness and his complete lack of television viewing. I’ve learned there are also books about Pigs and pancakes as well as Moose and muffins.

This Pig certainly fell into the same category of overbearingly demanding animals who utterly lack the ability to be appreciative or demonstrate decent manners. She’d been bacon long ago in my house.

Why I love the pre-show sitting across the aisle.

The audience was littered with stay-at-home moms living vicariously through their children. I’ve never seen such a mommy-and-me fashion parade in my life. [And I never knew you could buy coordinating adult-child ensembles. Rest assured, my sedate black-on-black attire was nowhere near Shifty’s pink and purple flower set. There is also little danger of me falling into this trap; I can’t pull off the flower-stripe-polka-dot combo like she can anyway. I do have more teal in my wardrobe thanks to her infuence, but that’s about as crazy as I get.] The matched sets wouldn’t have been nearly as creepy if the moms hadn’t decided to dress their daughters like trendy little adults instead of 4-year-olds. Of course, they could also meet in the middle and both dress like Miley Cyrus. That’s not a good plan, either.

Oh yeah, they did dance and sing for an hour. I should mention that part.

Ok, and you have to get past the somewhat depressing actors…all of the female parts were played by (what appeared to be) woman rapidly approaching (or passing) middle-age. This wouldn’t be so bad if one of the characters wasn’t named “Girl”. [In fairness, the characters were: “Pig”, “Girl”, “Moose”, “Mouse”, “Dog”, “Cat”, and “Snake”. Snake was actually a piece of flexible dryer vent with a cardboard head that had been painted green. These were $15 tickets, don’t expect “Cats”.] They just made me a little uncomfortable and sad to watch; their lack of enthusiasm was very apparent at times. Fortunately I have a 2-year-old who isn’t nearly as jaded as I am. I think.

Words I thought I’d never hear sung by a grown man dressed as a dog in a bathtub.

I’m pleased to say, Shifty did amazingly well, and LOVED it. She danced in the aisles and has been hopping around talking about her “Pig Party” ever since. The very nice woman sitting next to us was stunned at how well she did. I was so proud! I even forked over the grossly inflated cost for a copy of the book and we had it autographed by “Pig” afterwards. I’m now on the mailing list, and I can’t wait to take G to see what he thinks.

And really, all the sociopathic snobbery aside, it was totally worth it just to hear the line, “Yes, I’ve got hutzpah” sung by a young man with dog ears, wearing long johns, and sitting in a bathtub with aforementioned “Snake” and another young man similarly dressed as “Cat”. [Wow, and when you say it like that, this could also be the opening line for a really, really, really, really bad adult film.] Even more impressive, they went on to pair it with the line, “Uh-oh, snake just ate the loofah” [Also keeping with the bad fetish entertainment industry…] I never considered hutzpah a rhyming word, but there you have it. (Please note paraphrasing is a privilege I use liberally.)

I’m also pleased to rediscover how much I like live theatre. I’m pondering season tickets, but since the thought of taking my kids to a full-length production makes me hyperventilate, I’ll have to take a poll to see who I can drag along with me. While I don’t mind dating myself occasionally, it is nice to have someone to drink with before the show!

Bonus entertainment for sadists.

Alright, and in the spirit of true, blog-worthy confession, I have to tell you–the most amusing part of the whole endeavor….picture 30 pounds of toddler in a folding theatre seat.

Tee hee.


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