Band Concert Excitement
Tonight was Laundry Man's sixth grade band concert, and though I was looking forward to the event because his music has sounded great in personal practice, I would have been even more excited if I'd known how enjoyable it would be.
As seven o'clock approached, the row of Harvey-Pookas watched with bated breath for the concert to begin, all except D.W., who moped because it "isn't any fun when they're not playing yet." After asking at least four times if we could leave our seats to run around the school cafeteria (where the concert was to be held) and sulking when being told "no" every time, she finally asked, "Well, then, what can I do to help me wait?" Draw? no paper. Count dots on the ceiling? no, boring. Hold Baby J? no, sleeping. Take a nap? not sleepy. At last I remembered Lady's blog about the specific challenge facing first- and second-graders: "Then you can wiggle your loose tooth out!" Score!
She sat there contentedly wiggling, twisting and grunting, until POP! and a look of delighted surprise washed over her face. Unlike the good example provided by Lady, though, I had not the foresight to plan the setting for the event, to make sure all the needed amenities were present. Thank goodness D.W. was wearing a red outfit, in short. And how were we ever to get the dad-blame thing home? Aha! A breath-strips container, empty (thank goodness) was waiting right in my fanny-pack, ready for a tooth. Then all the girls wanted to take turns shaking it to hear the tooth inside rattle, and before you know it the band was all set up and ready to begin. *Sigh of relief*
As soon as the first note sounded Holly started bopping her head from side to side, keeping time with the music. Snoozer wanted to tell me what each song reminded her of, and she had some very interesting ideas, but not much volume-control tact. Niccus stood on my lap for two songs solid, craning her neck to see her very own Laundry Man in the baritone horn section. (Maybe she's trying to keep an eye on him so he doesn't sneak off and do something she considers not his job -- like when she saw him pass the sacrament the first week after becoming a deacon and she Not Very Quietly inquired what the sam-hill he was doing.)
The third song of the band concert had a middle-eastern feel, complete with fascinating rhythms from the percussion section. It was even interesting enough so the young wiggle-bugs around me were watching the stage, so they saw when the bat fluttered in. Now I've seen birds in large warehouse-type stores before, so I thought at first that this was what it was, but no, a second look confirmed that this was definitely a bat.
The audience stirred, murmuring, telling each other what it was, and the bat fluttered out a doorway. When it swooped back in people had taken the chance to ready themselves, and the bat was photographed, dodged, swiped at with coats, and talked over in even less concert-like tones. Harvey was sleeping through the songs (don't tell Laundry Man) so he didn't see it until I'd nudged him awake after the bat's second entrance. The bat dodged from one side of the room to the other, exiting just before the song ended.
The band hadn't missed a single beat. They must have thought us needlessly rude, because they proved they'd not known the bat was there when it re-entered and headed careening for their space during the introduction of their final number. I don't blame them for their screeching, since their seats placed them considerably closer the ceiling than any of the rest of us. If a bat were within arm's reach of me, I think I would have been likewise startled.
The band director, that amazing woman, called for a challenge. "This will be the perfect opportunity to show how well we can focus on our playing!" They did a great job, but of course Laundry Man was the best of them all.
The bat was eventually expelled from the concert permanently, awaiting the arrival of "Batman Tim, the custodian."
As seven o'clock approached, the row of Harvey-Pookas watched with bated breath for the concert to begin, all except D.W., who moped because it "isn't any fun when they're not playing yet." After asking at least four times if we could leave our seats to run around the school cafeteria (where the concert was to be held) and sulking when being told "no" every time, she finally asked, "Well, then, what can I do to help me wait?" Draw? no paper. Count dots on the ceiling? no, boring. Hold Baby J? no, sleeping. Take a nap? not sleepy. At last I remembered Lady's blog about the specific challenge facing first- and second-graders: "Then you can wiggle your loose tooth out!" Score!
She sat there contentedly wiggling, twisting and grunting, until POP! and a look of delighted surprise washed over her face. Unlike the good example provided by Lady, though, I had not the foresight to plan the setting for the event, to make sure all the needed amenities were present. Thank goodness D.W. was wearing a red outfit, in short. And how were we ever to get the dad-blame thing home? Aha! A breath-strips container, empty (thank goodness) was waiting right in my fanny-pack, ready for a tooth. Then all the girls wanted to take turns shaking it to hear the tooth inside rattle, and before you know it the band was all set up and ready to begin. *Sigh of relief*
As soon as the first note sounded Holly started bopping her head from side to side, keeping time with the music. Snoozer wanted to tell me what each song reminded her of, and she had some very interesting ideas, but not much volume-control tact. Niccus stood on my lap for two songs solid, craning her neck to see her very own Laundry Man in the baritone horn section. (Maybe she's trying to keep an eye on him so he doesn't sneak off and do something she considers not his job -- like when she saw him pass the sacrament the first week after becoming a deacon and she Not Very Quietly inquired what the sam-hill he was doing.)
The third song of the band concert had a middle-eastern feel, complete with fascinating rhythms from the percussion section. It was even interesting enough so the young wiggle-bugs around me were watching the stage, so they saw when the bat fluttered in. Now I've seen birds in large warehouse-type stores before, so I thought at first that this was what it was, but no, a second look confirmed that this was definitely a bat.
The audience stirred, murmuring, telling each other what it was, and the bat fluttered out a doorway. When it swooped back in people had taken the chance to ready themselves, and the bat was photographed, dodged, swiped at with coats, and talked over in even less concert-like tones. Harvey was sleeping through the songs (don't tell Laundry Man) so he didn't see it until I'd nudged him awake after the bat's second entrance. The bat dodged from one side of the room to the other, exiting just before the song ended.
The band hadn't missed a single beat. They must have thought us needlessly rude, because they proved they'd not known the bat was there when it re-entered and headed careening for their space during the introduction of their final number. I don't blame them for their screeching, since their seats placed them considerably closer the ceiling than any of the rest of us. If a bat were within arm's reach of me, I think I would have been likewise startled.
The band director, that amazing woman, called for a challenge. "This will be the perfect opportunity to show how well we can focus on our playing!" They did a great job, but of course Laundry Man was the best of them all.
The bat was eventually expelled from the concert permanently, awaiting the arrival of "Batman Tim, the custodian."
posted by Pooka at 11:38 PM
7 Comments:
I don't think any of my middle school concerts were ever that exciting! I'm glad that Laundry Man has a wise band director...it sounds like things turned out well. And congrats to DW! There seems to be an epidemic of missing teeth in the Henrichsen clan.
Very exciting concert indeed!
Oh yeah, and this has nothing to do with the band concert, but I finally saw the movie "Harvey" this weekend. :)
That was an exciting evening! Fun was had by all, except perhaps the bat...
I understand bats have very sensitive hearing. So I guess it really liked the middle school band music!
Wow. I'm impressed with the performers' composure. And the audience's too, I suppose, because there wasn't a mad rush of people running out the door screaming while covering their heads to keep the bat from getting tangled in their (respective) hair.
I don't know why, but that's what I always think of when I hear about bats in buildings. "Just don't let it get in my hair!"
Anyway, great work Laundry Man!
Sounds like a great concert! I am impressed with your ability to entertain waiting children. I wish I could have been there for the loose tooth and the bat! What a show!
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