When Joseph Overacts

God love my sons, they are nothing if not dramatic. For little kids, there are few outlets to stretch acting muscles as much as the Christmas pagaent. Every year, around the world, kids don costumes to pretend to be a carpenter, his pregnant wife, a wise man, or a donkey. We all know the story, and we know how it will end. We also know 3 shepherds will take longer to move from sacristry to main aisle than the actual Magi took to migrate. But that's the beauty of it. The childish improvisation (intended or not) brings a sweetness that sucks us all in, every time.

But much like the singers who insist upon scatting their way through the National Anthem at the World Series... sometimes personalization can go a little too far. While Son2 was content, even drawn to non-speaking roles in which he could hide (the donkey, FOUR times), Son1 has always tried to grab the limelight. Maybe it's partially our own fault, since he sees hubs and I prep each year for the Murder Mystery play we co-write and perform. Maybe I should have reigned him in the first year when he finagled a dual role. Maybe he was inspired to learn Cecil B. DeMille grew up in our church (and then learn who he was). All I know is, Joseph was never delivered with such zeal. And volume.

Year one, Son1 was Caesar. But being a small parish with a Christmas cold whipping thru, we were down a Magi. Enter Son1, assuming the duel role of Caesar Augustus AND Balthasar. He was elated he'd have a costume change and two crowns. He still tried to worm his way into the shepherd corps, and was miffed that Joseph went to another boy. "How do you plan on being Joseph and being a wise man coming to visit Joseph/you?" I asked. "I'd figure it out. Special effects. Like in the movies" Right. George Lucas on line one for you, bud. At some point in the play, he started speaking as Caesar, which was funny since his Caesar had no speech. Still early in the speech therapy game, his sweeping call to his "wo-man  soldiers" to enforce the census was a stirring ad lib.

The first year Son1 was cast as Joseph, he was a little frustrated to learn he was to sit in tableau. When told he would have no lines to recite, no props per se, and no actual livestock he pitched a wee fit. I should have been a little suspicious when he tried to clarify six times if it was 100% certain he was not to move at all. Perpetual Motion-Son1 has a tendency to rock side to side, so I use the phrase "two feet" as a cue to plant both when it would be distracting. My direction gaffe for that performance was blurting out "TWO FEET and NO FIDGETING!" That left the door open for all other movement. And you have never seen a more melodramatic Joseph, silent or not. Through slow, sweeping arm gestures, bowed head, panicked expressions, and exaggerated attempts to "hear what I hear," the tableau fell apart to the point the Virgin Mother punched him. While holding baby Jesus.

The second year as Joseph went more smoothly, since they wised up and gave him actual lines. I guess they figured it would be better to control his speech. Silly, silly people. When all was said and done, apart from a few scrapes trying to defend the baby Jesus when the drummer boy came over it worked out. No domestic violence was had in the manger. All was calm, all was bright.

The following year, he was Herod. Herod is historically important in the Nativity story, but kind of a bit part in Christmas pagaents. Well, traditionally. Son1 delivered all 6 of his words with passion. Then, when the narrator announced that it came to pass Herod had died, Son1 (to the alarm of the assembled congregation) played his death scene in true style. He stumbled up the steps to the choir loft that fronts our altar, grasping pews along the way. He gasped and choked. It looked like Herod was mugged. He then reached his "mark" where he (to the best of my knowledge) was simply supposed to fall, and threw himself up in the air, crashing to the ground with a thud. It was a tour de force collapse that nearly landed him in the ER with a concussion. The angel Gabriel cum stage hand laughed and dragged him out by his feet, whacking his head twice on steps. To his credit, he never broke character, never had his Harvey Korman-Carol Burnett show laughter break.

But Son1 is older now, and doesn't want to be in the pagaent. Pushing 13, I see his point. The time has come to pass the torch, crowns, and baby Jesus doll to the younger cherubs so they may make their mark. Stage shy Son2 lapsed into the stage crew the year immediately following his breakout (yet silent) role as the star. Son1 now sits in his altar boy vestments and watches the little ones perform. I had the chance to take part in the service last week, so I was sitting next him. I was watching him watching them and it was a bittersweet moment. My boy was now beyond his dramatic Nativity days. He's now all gangly legs and crazy long feet. But I found myself stealing glances, enjoying his reactions as much as I enjoyed his turns in the same roles. There's something really sweet about watching your kids reach a point when they support the younger ones, and we are now at that point. We'll continue to watch the pagaent each year and applaud the efforts, but I can guarantee it will not hold the level of action it has in more recent years... at least not until the Sunday School teachers allow Son1 to direct.

Christmas: A Study in Contrasts

It’s fairly evident on any given day how different Son1 and Son2 are. Musical taste, activities, clothing preferences… the list can go on. The way they manage money is an extreme study in contrasts.

Son1 was a rap star in a past life, or maybe a pro basketball player oozing street cred. In his mind, he is a god when it comes to creating hip hop, sweet talking the ladies, and livin’ large. We have a hard time getting through his head that, “Peace homes… chill” is not the appropriate way to sign off the phone with one's grandmother. And you know how many home boys kick it in STX lacrosse T-Shirts or Umbra soccer cleats.

Son2 need only be placed on an island with six fellow castaways and a coconut radio for it to be clear he is the Professor. He also must deck the house out for every occasion with such zeal I call him Marcus Stewart. We are continually stuck in a dizzying array of elaborately engineered seasonal displays. I don’t mean just the biggies like Christmas or Easter. St Patrick’s Day is a festival in the playroom, and I think he’s planning Summer Solstice 2011 décor 6 months ahead.

But of all the times of the year that I marvel at the differences of two children raised under the same set of rules, there is nothing quite like Christmas to spotlight the chasm. Here are but a few conversational highlights to show Son1 and Son2 are about as in synch as Nancy Pelosi and Anne Coulter:

On the subject of presents for their older sisters… Where do you want to go for Christmas shopping?

The highly-frugal, crazy-methodical, and intensely-crafty 10yr old (Son2):
Can I have $20 and go to 5 below? Or maybe a craft fair. I can always find something there and can really stretch my money. Or if you take me to Michael’s, I can spend the money on supplies to make twice as much. I can make them earrings, or a necklace. How much do I have? I’ll need a lot.

Money you mean?

No, time. I’ll need a lot of time in the store to find the perfect item. You may need to take me to the other Michael’s too. We’ll have all afternoon, right?

(You see, Son2 has to look at EVERYthing. Every item in inventory at least twice to be sure he doesn’t miss a thing. Tomorrow is shopping day. Just shoot me now)

The high rolling generous to the brink of insane 12 yr old (Son1):
Well, I want to get them sapphire diamonds. BIG ones.

Um, honey, they are 2 different stones. That’s very generous.

Ok, well one necklace or whatever for them both that has a really big sapphire and some diamonds. Then I want to get T an Xbox360 and for A, a flat screen TV. For (her husband) L, flat screen too.

Again, very generous. Ya know T’s 40 next month, and I think her kids have Xbox already, but very nice. Nice of you too on the flat screen for A&L.

No- one for A and one for L. He should have his own.

Ok, what about D, your sister T’s husband?

Oh yeah, I may have to borrow some money.

NOW? NOW you think you may be over budget?


I really need to start the Christmas baking…

Cake Boss meets Nate Berkus Son2:
Oh can I help? I want to decorate the cookies! Can we get that white icing stuff in the bag to draw those really neat lines? I want to draw snowflakes on cookies. But they all need to be different.

And then we can do some with that sugar in the colors. Maybe like 2 dozen of red, and then green, and then blue. Some chocolate chips would be good, and then some peanut butter ones. And then we can make those rolled up cookies you made last year.

OF COURSE he wants me to make those rolled up cookies. They’re from a Hungarian recipe from my mother in law and take like 16 hours to make, back from the days when peasant women had days and days to cook and bake. And massive arms apparently to obliterate 10lbs of walnuts into dust.

And I always wanted to bake and build a real gingerbread house. Should we make it open on one side so we can decorate all the rooms with candy?

Aim high, kid, aim high.

Attention span of Flea Son1:
Can’t we just use that plastic tub of dough? Or go to Kings?

Of course, even in convenience he picks Kings or Whole Foods where the same cookie dough is five times the price.


At least the schedule isn’t as crazy this year. Last year was a zoo with meetings for Daddy or me each night …

All about a ferstive and cozy home Son2:
I was thinking, we should light a fire every night and you can make real hot cocoa. Do you know how to make marshmallows? That lady on TV did. We can put a different movie on each night.

Sorry kid, your mom’s not the Barefoot Contessa. You notice he’s a little fixated on from scratch?

All I want is PlayStation Son1:
Can we just get pizza one night and watch a movie. Like Transformers?

That’s not a holiday movie.

Alright, what about that one where the kid wants the rifle but he’ll shoot his eye out, and the mom is super stressed and the dad yells and the crazy dogs take the food?

A Christmas Story? Or are we simply talking home movies?

And our final example: It’ll be nice to be home for Christmas, then visit your sisters …

Always up for decorating Son2:
That’ll be so cool! Do you think they’ll each let me decorate some stuff at their houses? You know you have to get ready for the Three Kings. A lot of people don’t realize you should make the place look festive for them too.

What have done for me lately Son1:
Why can’t we all go down to Florida and rent big houses next to each other and hang out and swim all day then go to restaurants at night so you don’t have to cook?

Well for starters, I do like to cook, but more to your point, flying 11 people to Florida and renting homes isn’t in the cards this year. Maybe I can try to get some tickets from points for a trip next year.

Fine. Then we’ll do it next year. But make sure you book at least me in first class.

You aim high too, Son1. Aim for the Christmas you so richly think you deserve.