It became crystal clear to me suddenly that Beiber fans got nothin' on children's fans. Their parents. Their families. Number one fans that is. As it should be.
I parked on a side street probably illegally but time was closing in quickly and I had to find a decent seat in order to get prime camera angle.
I walked into the dim light of the gym and saw the stage in all of its magenta, deep red and purple glory, decorated with paper gold stars. The excitement was palpable. There was an undercurrent of sentimentality and a whiff of nostalgia from our own past early childhood school stage memories.
My throat caught unexpected tears. I thought of my husband who was in another country missing this big moment and the tears that sprung suddenly were at once for him and for my biggest baby boy who had no idea what a big deal this was to me. To us.
The gym continued to fill and fill until there was standing room only. Cameras and camcorders sat in laps and were clutched in hands of almost every parent in the audience.
The first group of children blasted us with big voices and huge smiles. You really couldn't help but beam back, giggle even. Their enthusiasm was incredibly touching. The next act was much subtler but just as sweet.
There really is nothing that makes your heart and soul smile bigger than children's innocent voices singing together.
Except maybe seeing their parents waving maniacally half standing and calling out their child's name.
Parental paparazzi. It's nothing to sneeze at. Serious, serious business in fact.
When I knew Adrian's class was coming up I, of-course, scooted out to the front...but made sure to stand behind the yellow Caution tape. (I kid you not).
As the 4 year old boys and girls paraded in front of my camcorder, my throat once again, abruptly closed over and proud tears sprung fast to my eyes. I had to tell myself to get a grip. I mean really. I had NOT come prepared with kleenex for this. The tears held close at bay.
"Adrian!" I whispered loudly as he passed by. I lurched and waved but he did not see me.
The boys and girls lined up in their school uniforms and a green and red tie for festivity. Their clear high perfectly uneven beautiful voices raised to sing "Mary O Blessed One".
Of-course my eyes saw only my son whose eyes seemed to seek mine but couldn't find me because of the bright lights.
I watched him sing. I watched him so intently I felt as though my heart might burst into silver glitter and red and green confetti hearts. I watched him sing his heart out and rub his nose. I watched as his eyes wandered every now and again.
I'm right here honey! Over here with the camera...I promise not to miss a minute of this. Remember...Mommy doesn't break promises. I'm right here baby boy...I always am.
I wanted so much for him to know I was right there. I yearned for it. It hurt my heart for him to think I wasn't there supporting him. Watching him with such love and pride.
He knew, after I picked him up. He knew when I hugged him close and kissed his soft cheeks and told him how awesome he did and how proud I was of him.
He knew when I made it extra special by taking him out for lunch.
Just the two us.
Our favourite moments.
Are these moments spent. Just the two us.
|He had 2 mini burgers and mashed potatoes. And Skittles for dessert.|