Since Mini-Husband started school way back at the tender age of 2.5, we've been going to the end of year show, or spectacle as it's called in French. A funny word for me since I think of something "spectacular" as being something extraordinary or out of this world. Unfortunately for the budding talent in the village, the annual show is rarely that.
I think that's what makes this yearly ritual so endearing, the whole world over. A chance to see your little pride and joy up on stage, singing or dancing their hearts out. Or, in some cases, crying their eyes out. The two hours we sit though, watching all those kids mumble around, become magical ego boosters for us when our own progeny look so darn cute up there, tears or not, during the brief few minutes of their song.
I also like that fact that every year we get a chance to see all those other parents who's kids we know, but we never find time to get the families together. Early on, I know a lot of them were curious to know Mini-Husband's family, les anglais. (Or rather, les americans according to Mini-Husband's last family census.) Then The Princess joined in. And then Bubba-Love appeared on the scene. And yesterday it was fun getting the village's opinion on who Whoops looks like. I'm sure some of the other families didn't think we'd still be living here 6 years later, much less single handedly repopulating the village.
I never understand the words to the songs they sing and I hate that I can't just jump in and clap my hands to an old traditional tune, since I haven't a clue what the lyrics are. But I do enjoy watching my kids singing along, their friends beside them, waving to Hubster and I at the back of the hall. Who cares that this is all happening in French. This is life with kids anywhere. The rituals are the same be it in England, Idaho or France.
Of course, I'm just glad our parents association likes selling glasses of wine when the whole thing is finally over. You can admit it. We win with that one.