The Nativity play rehearsal

My daughter is in a Christmas play. It’s her first Christmas play, she is three.

I am already fearful of the big day. It’s not the concern over crying in public (although, knowing me, I will be an emotional wreck). It’s not even the immense feeling of parental responsibility at helping her learn her lines. No. It’s something far, far worse.

At pre-school drop-off yesterday, I was given a sheet of paper with lyrics to the songs in Frog’s Christmas play. Contained within the package was a CD. Oh good, I thought, we can have a jolly sing-a-long when she gets home this afternoon. I pictured some good mother-daughter bonding. Possibly even an early mug of mulled wine for Mummy. We made an imaginary stage and Frog stepped behind the curtain…

The first song comes on. It’s an up-beat number, all about a bossy king who is (from what I can gather) a bit rude. My three year old related to the lyrics, “Being bossy is such fun” and threw herself into the verse with gusto.

The second song was a bit slower. I encouraged her to pretend to rock baby Jesus. “He not Jesus Mummy. He baby CHEESE-US”. So that didn’t go too well.

By the third song she’d had enough. The Christmas cheer had all but evaporated and “baby Cheese-us” was not cutting the mustard.

“This is SOOOOO BORING Mummy,” wailed my sullen daughter. “I hate baby Cheese-us songs. I WANT OLLY MURS!”

So now you’ll see why I’m scared.