Last night we went to the performance of “Stardust” at the local middle school.  Erin is in the advance drama class and had a pretty big role.

It was fun.

I knew all along that she was in this thing and I was vaguely aware that they had been rehearsing but when it all came together I was surprised at how entertaining it was.  Of course, they have a good teacher.

The play is set in a performing arts school in the 50s and Erin’s role was as the crazy drama teacher.  She had the goofy cat-eye glasses and everything – even a toothbrush in her hair.  Her teacher had been giving her A’s in class and has occasionally told us that Erin has a flair for the dramatic but it took an actual performance to drive the point home.  Her performance was indeed good; but of course, I’m the Dad and so cannot be trusted to give anything like an objective opinion.  I have no interest in an objective opinion in fact.  Even if she’s terrible at something, my job is to be supportive but in this case, I believe that the many people stopping to tell me afterwards how good she was is what tells the tale as to her performance.

Various people stopped to tell me how good they thought she was and most of them quoted some line from the play that stood out in their minds – sort of like people quote funny lines from “Monty Python and the Holy Grail” or “Office Space”.  In particular, when the character was in danger of losing her job, she lamented that

“I shall have to teach English!”

All eyes shot over to the entire English department sitting in the fifth row.  They all hooted with laughter rather than scowling dissapprovingly so it was all good.  The toughest critic of all was her older brother:  Evan who didn’t want to go at all.  He made a point of telling her that not only was he not bored but that it was really seriously good.  She responded to all of this by going home and collapsing into the bed and falling asleep instantaneously.  Apparently, acting is hard work.

So, there it is.  Erin’s performance was so good that people were complenting me.  I assured everyone that this little genetic trait did not migrate from my side of the gene pool.  But I was gracious about it.

Erin’s little gift to us was to annouce that the cast party was to be at our house tonight.  Mel’s response:


She stopped at WalMart on the way home and left the house this morning in a tizzy – calling after her to mop the kitchen floor before I left for work.

Such is life.  First you give a stunning performance, then you have to mop the floor.  There’s a life lesson in there somewhere.