There are times that it works to take Benjamin to a local production. When his sister was Auntie Em in the Wizard of Oz he was only seven. Rather than risk an embarrassing scene I took him to a dress rehearsal. Not only did he sit enthralled through the entire performance, when it was over he leaped to his feet and clapped enthusiastically, I did not realize that he was aware of the intricacies of theater etiquette.  After the curtain slid down I took him to the lobby to meet the Scarecrow and Tin Man. To him they were as real as it gets. 

 

But things did not go well when I took him to the Pirates of Penzance. We made a hasty retreat in the middle of the first act. I had hoped he would be captivated by the swords, but no such luck.

 

Another year I took him to a Christmas play. In it Santa asked a child what her favorite carol is. She named one, and he instructed his reluctant elf to sing it for her. The elf balks. 

 

Ben is not one to cross Santa. 

 

"My favorite Christmas song is Frosty!" he said, forgetting to whisper. Then he started to sing it. 

 

We waited such a long time for Ben to speak- he was over four- it still pains me every time I need to ask him to stop. But the seats around us were full and other people came to hear the performers. Not Ben. So I shushed him. 

 

One of the things I love about Benjamin is the immediacy of his joy. Social norms do little to dampen his eagerness to seize the day. 

 

There are times when I could learn from him. All fall I watched the leaves turn scarlet and gold, knowing that their beauty was temporary. Yet I always put off walking beneath them until my chores were done. Which they never were. 

 

I think when Ben gets home I will invite him to go on a ramble with me. We will sing the whole way.