I was feeling terribly remiss. I'm afraid I simply did not do my homework this year. Here we were, the Holidays upon us, and I managed to neglect my duties as Mum. I understand I was supposed to take my daughter to at least three Christmas shows. I was supposed to have her picture taken with Santa, I was supposed to take her to see the Christmas trees on the mall, participate in a carol sing, see the Nutcracker, and this and that.

Last Sunday I remembered that there was an Nativity reenactment at a nearby church. My husband was loathe to go. It's Sunday night. He's traveled all week, worked hard at trying to get his customers to pay their bills. He'd like to hang out with The Bees by the tree (or preferably in front of a soccer match), sipping a glass of wine. And in his defense we are not affiliated with this church-- in fact, we are not religious in any way.

I strongly encouraged him to go. "it's just one night", I said. "One night out of the entire year to go and participate in a Christmas festivity. Besides, it's close by. And there are live animals! The Bees will love it!" Silence. "We'll bring a flask of rum and spike the cider". And that did it.

We arrived at the church and, sure enough, there was a manger and hay strewn about and there were the appropriate donkeys, goats, sheep, chickens in a cage and even a rabbit. Mary and Joseph arrived with their little bundle (a still infant figurine with an alarmingly full head of hair). Bees saw Joseph's beard and shouted "HANTA! HANTA!". "No it's not Santa" I laughed, it's Joseph". At that she buried her head in my shoulder - her first embarassment?

The angel began singing in a quaver but warmed up on her headset and became emboldened as they turned up the volume of the "boom chakka" machine.

It was very hip Christmas music. Bees sat in my lap, transfixed by the scene before us, the baby, the angel, the singers.

I kept pointing to the baby goats and sheep nuzzling straw next to us but she was unimpressed. The singing riveted her, and she swayed in my arms to the rythym. My husband passed me the contraband cup. As it turns out, it was hot chocolate they were serving, but the rum out of the flask accompanied it nicely, like a nice holiday run ball.

CB ended up huddled over by the outdoor hearth as The Bees and I watched the whole show. The players stopped singing and then there was this silence as they stared straight ahead. Something else was supposed to happen but I'm not sure what. It wasn't time to clap so we all just stood there. After about 7 minutes the boom chakka machine started again, and we all got up to get another cookie.

We ran into a few friends, so it turns out it was the socially acceptable place to be.

As we walked back to our car CB was complaining that it was cold and I hadn't told him it was outside and I said it was going to be a Carol Sing. But for three days now the Bees has been talking about the angel with wings, the kings, the "cook-cooks", and the baby Jesus. So I have fulfilled my motherly Christmas duty.