If you’re reading this between 11:30 AM ET and 12:00 PM ET on April 9, 2014, I can guarantee what I’ll be thinking about.
The Three Piggy Opera
The Three Piggy Opera is a performance my son, R, will be in during that time. He and all of the other kindergarteners at his elementary school will gather in the cafeteria to put on this short musical skit for their families and others in the school community. The Three Piggy Opera, according to Once Upon an Opera website, is “the whimsical story of what happened AFTER the wolf blew down the Pigs’ houses.” Sounds cute, right?
The kids have been practicing for a while, and I am sure the show will be wonderful.
I, however, will be 20 miles away in a meeting at work.
My husband will also be at work.
No one from our family will be there to cheer on R, to take lots of pictures, or to capture a video of him singing along.
When I told him I couldn’t attend, his face fell. “Can Daddy come?” he asked quietly. I shook my head no, and he looked so disappointed. It nearly did me in.
It’s not the first time I’ll have missed a school event. There was a recital at day care when R was three years old. I left more than enough time for the commute that day, but, unfortunately, I missed the news report that President Obama was in town. His visit shut down my primary route to R’s day care—and my backup route—so I spent the recital time stuck in traffic. I missed the entire show. I cried the entire way home, at every red light and street corner.
The Three Piggy Opera is different though. It’s kindergarten. That’s the big leagues compare to day care. And, as opposed to R’s day care recital, which I can be confident he will not remember, he might actually recall that my husband and I weren’t there at the Three Piggy Opera.
I could have been, too. If I had gotten more than one week’s notice about the performance, I would have been able to rearrange my schedule to attend.
Instead, I’ll be in my meeting, watching the clock, hoping everything goes well and that my little singer has a fun time. Hoping he’s not upset we’re not there.
I’m already grateful to the parents of R’s classmates who will be there and who have offered to share their photos and videos. That will make it better—though it’s not the same as being in that cafeteria at 11:30 AM.