Scarlett has theater friends. Some of these are normal children, most are not. No small number of these dear children resemble Scarlett in one way: life = theater. Now, that is advanced math (and she means that, because that equation gets pretty darn complex).
So yesterday, one of the most adorable of these types, a 10 year old boy - a tiny, wee sprite of a specimen who can belt out a tune like nobody's business and is a SLAVE to the stage, already - called yesterday, inquiring after Scarlett. Actually, he called approximately 3 million times.
Finally, the Matron pressed further.
Matron: "Honey? She's still on her way home from camp. Is there something I can help you with?"
Sprite: "Okay, because my mom actually says I need to run this by you first."
Matron: "Run away!"
Sprite: "I'm going to put on a show called Rent and I want to know if Scarlett can be in it. She would get a really good part and I don't know if you've seen it but there is a TON of singing and dancing. . . . and, um, lots and lots of what my mother says is very inappropriate material that we'll cut out for our version."
Matron: "Inappropriate material is just fine. I'll have her call you the minute she gets home."
Sprite: "Oh My God! Thank you so much!!" (screams, away from receiver) "MOM! All those good songs might get to stay in after all!" (back to telephone) "And Mary? I'm going to find a real theater for us to use so if you see one, let me know."
Oh, how the Matron loves these children!
Now, before the Matron could fill Scarlett in on this latest and most exciting development, she had to snatch that child from the jaws of death, that torture chamber called Camp. Luckily, all this meant for her was driving across town at 4 pm, arms full of flowers to thank the friend's parents who hauled all four children back to St. Paul.
On the car ride home, Scarlett began a minute-by-minute narration of camp, starting with our departure. "And Mom? After I saw your back walking away? My nose itched and then Lia asked me if we should go to our cabin. Then we did, while we tried not to step on cracks and break your back -- and Cela's. Once we got to the cabin, I opened my brown bag first and then by yellow backpack. . . . . ." The monologue continues, today. We're on, oh, Tuesday evening.
Excuse her? She has to pause her blogging.
"Scarlett! I know that you love your counselor Caroline and she has a blue hairbrush, two dogs -- just like us! -- and a 9th grade brother. So hang on with that info and I'll be with you in a few. . ."
So here is the Matron in the van yesterday, interrupting her wind-up doll:
Matron: "Stop! It sounds like fun! Will you go back next year?"
Matron: "What? Stryker, why not?"
Stryker: "I hated that car ride home. Three and a half hours with nothing to do! Why didn't you get to the house faster? Where's my book? We had the second worst cabin in the whole camp. Mom, I had to walk like one mile just to eat!! Then, our tent fell down, twice. You didn't send candy! Everyone got food in their care packages except us because YOU had to go follow the rules. My bathing suit got all muddy and the back-up suit is terrible! And look, look, look!!!"
Here, the hysteria rises to near tears as he pulls up his pant legs to reveal two knees that look like somebody took a cheese grater to them.
"I fell! I am injured! I am in pain!"
Matron: "When was the last time you had food?"
Scarlett: "We ate the whole way home!"
Stryker: "IT'S NOT FOOD. IT'S CAMP."
Matron: "What time did you go to bed last night?"
Stryker: "It's not that, either. But okay, we went to sleep about an hour after midnight and then turned on our alarm for 2:15 so we could go pranking. But then we just talked about pranking and reset the alarm for 3:15. When that one went off, some of us went outside but it was too dark to really do anything. But then we went back to bed and got up to fishing an hour later. BUT IT'S NOT THAT."
Hmmmmmmmm. . . . .
Lat night, a good night's sleep was had by all and today, camp appears a repeat on everybody's summer schedule. The Matron will be requesting that Scarlett NOT write home.
Of course, the very first thing Scarlett had to do ("or I will just die!") was coerce one of her shell-shocked parents (oh things had been quiet and clean!) to take her to the video store to get this:
Now, Scarlett viewed this film and the upcoming (somebody else's thank god) Backyard Theater as if she were preparing for her Broadway debut. She is that hooked. The instant the movie ended, she called Sprite, telling him she was all over the project and -- what was the role?
Sprite: "Maureen. The girl who kisses the other girl and who does those great big shows."
There are also upcoming auditions for a real theater doing The Sound of Music. Scarlett turned to her mother and said: "If only I can be Maureen AND Gretel!"
Sigmund? Are you channeling anywhere close by? The mother of a method-actor could use a session. . . .