mommagreenfish

For the last two months, our younger son has been rehearsing for a special children’s opera. At five years old, this is his first real performance on a stage of any kind, even if it is just for two lines sung over and over.

He’s been so excited about the opera, especially since he got his costume two weeks ago. He’s a bat, so he got cute little bat ears on a headband and some shimmery black material for wings.

Initially there was to be just one performance, on a Monday night, but a second performance was added for the next day, so that the local Grade 3, 4 and 7 classes could attend.

By Sunday, our son was definitely in the throes of the worst cold he’s had all winter. That night, he woke twice through the night with asthma attacks and stomach aches.

We reluctantly sent him to school on Monday, and weren’t surprised to have his teacher call to say she had to give him his inhaler.

When he came home, my husband volunteered to lie down with him so he could have a nap and therefore, half a chance at staying awake for the entire 30-minute show.

By 5:30, when we were preparing to get ready to go to the performance space, it was clear that he was barely able to stop coughing enough to sing his lines once through, let alone the eight or nine times he was supposed to in the opera.

I came up with the idea of giving him a spill-proof bottle of water to drink, to keep his throat clear. He could drink it backstage, right up until he had to go on stage, and keep the cough to the minimum.

That night, among a myriad of other problems, our youngest son didn’t end up on stage until the bow. He was upset, both because he had a bathroom accident, and because he didn’t get to do his dance with the other bats.

When he woke up Tuesday morning and had another bathroom miss, we decided he should stay home from school. We made him stay on the couch and watch a lot of television, but by 11 a.m., it seemed that he was in no condition to perform.

He had gotten over the bathroom problems, but was a little warm, and couldn’t stop coughing for more than 15 minutes. He was very pale, with the glassy eyes and rosy cheeks that scream “I’m sick” to every parent in the world.

When I told him that I didn’t think he could go, he burst into tears. Which set me off. There is nothing more heartbreaking than a five year old begging to perform even though he is sick. Well, maybe there is, but that morning it didn’t seem that way.

After a talk with my husband, we decided that the lesson of rewarding him for determination and hard work was an important one, and allowed him to go.

He was so proud of himself when he got off the stage. He cheeks were still bright, his eyes still glassy, but his smile was priceless. The only time it faded was when he realised that it was over.

I reminded him that this is really just the beginning - there will be plenty more performances to come. And as I watched him take off his costume for the last time, I realised that there probably will be, and it made me happy.