Responsible parenting and leadership are a start. In between reaching for the sky (Toy Story rocks).

Screw the darkness. I prefer the lightness of Pop.

Sunday, July 19, 2015

Schooled At Schoolhouse Rock

Show excitement, 
Or emotion. 
They're generally set apart from a sentence
By an exclamation point,
Or by a comma when the feeling's not as strong.”

Schoolhouse Rock, Interjections

The staff member stared at me, a slight forced smile on her face betrayed her awkwardness.

"Excuse me, but I'm going to have to stand here and watch you delete it."

An hour earlier the local musical production of Schoolhouse Rock Live! was just about to start and we all simmered with excitement. The girls were a little worried about how loud it would be and had their ear muffs at the ready, but the Mama and me couldn't wait. We grew up on Schoolhouse Rock and had introduced the girls to some of them in the past year, some of their early favorites being "Three Is a Magic Number," "I'm Just a Bill," and "Interplanet Janet."

The announcer began and ran through show preliminaries. We half-listened while waiting for the show to start.

"...and due to copyright laws, flash photography or video recording are not permitted during the production or anywhere inside the theater..."

The first half of the production started and the Mama and I were lost in childhood memories -- waking up early for Saturday morning cartoons and the Schoolhouse Rock shorts in between. Bryce got a little squirmy, but Beatrice enjoyed every song. This production told the story of a teacher getting ready for his first day of school and how his beloved Schoolhouse Rock comes alive in his living room to teach him how to be a better teacher. (We highly recommend it.)

Intermission came and we ate a snack in the lobby and took a bathroom break. Once back inside the theater, we sat down, but then I had the bright idea of taking a picture of the stage and posting it online. We'd already done a #BhivePower selfie and posted it, so being the social big daddy I am, I thought I'd take a quick shot.

As soon as I took the picture of the stage and headed back to my seat, Beatrice called me out.

"Daddy, you're not supposed to take pictures."

"Shhhh...I know. Don't tell anyone."

The people right behind us laughed at Beatrice schooling her father, but no sooner had I started to edit the photo to post, one of the theater staff appeared and looked right at me.

"I'm sorry, but I was told that someone down here was taking pictures down here. Again, photography of any kind isn't allowed in the theater."

"I'm sorry," I admitted. The Mama gave me a "you're caught" look, laughed and shook her head.

The staff member just stared at me. A slight forced smile on her face betrayed her awkwardness. I looked down to break eye contact, already bummed that I was caught. She didn't leave.

"Excuse me, but I'm going to have to stand here and watch you delete it. Sorry."

Or by a comma when the feeling's not as strong.


So there I was, in front of my family, and those other audience members paying attention, deleting the stage photo I took so she could see I actually deleted it.

"Thank you," she said, and was gone.

"Daddy, I told you," Beatrice said.

Schooled at Schoolhouse Rock. The fact that my eldest daughter paid attention and knew what I did was wrong was actually an awkward but proud parenting moment.

B-hive power indeed. So instead, I took a picture of the production poster in the lobby, the rebel I am.

Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah -- Yay!

Darn, that's the end.

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