The four of us are standing in the front lobby of the Phoenix Theatre on Charing Cross Road. We are there for the 2.30 pm matinee performance of Goodnight Mister Tom. We read a rave review about it in a recent Saturday edition of The Brainy One’s Financial Times and decided to hang the expense and purchase tickets as our family’s Christmas treat. My SiL was able to step-in at the 11th hour, after mum was still too poorly to come for her pre-Christmas visit.
The Brainy One has gone to the bar for drinks. I have shepherded The Boy Child in to a corner in front of a banner advertising the play and am trying to get him to smile for the camera. He is holding Paddy Bear, the prize (on loan) winners of the weekly Lower School Star of the Week receive.
The children get to take him home for the weekend (or in our case, for the whole of the Christmas holidays) and are supposed to record the adventures he has in the Paddy Bear Scrapbook.
“Is that something you could do, The Boy Child’s Mummy?” asks the class teacher last week.
No problem at all.
I take three shots before The Boy Child decides we are done.
My SiL laughs. The Brainy One returns from the bar, laden with drinks and a Nibble Box for The Boy Child. The Usher announces that the auditorium is now open and to please have tickets ready.
It is 2.20pm.
Why not pop across to Alexa’s blog to see how her moment, and those of many others, panned out? You’ll be glad you did.