>Just When You Think You’ve Heard It All

>

Ah, high school plays.

I have to admit that I love going to see them mostly because of the potential for disaster. And with two teens in the house who’ve been bitten by the drama bug, I have seen a lot of plays in my time- and a lot of disasters.

The most memorable one, though, occurred when my brother had a role in Grease during his senior year of high school. A freshman girl had landed the coveted role of Sandy and word was that she was stellar; she had to be in order to have earned the role over the dozens of upperclassmen who’d auditioned for the part.

“Sandy” did an excellent job the night I went to see the performance- at least until she got to the critical part of the play, in which she sings the reprise of “Look at Me, I’m Sandra Dee” and decides to transform from Goody Goody Two Shoes into Two-Bit Ho in order to win the heart of Danny Zukko.

“Sandy, you must start anew,” she sang, all alone on a series of multi-level platforms that had been built on stage. “Don’t you know what you must do?” Confidently, Sandy stepped down each platform as her voice grew louder and stronger. Girl was into it. “Hold your head high, take a deep breath insidddddddddeeee…”

At that very moment, she stepped down and fell through a gap in the rafters, disappearing from sight. The audience gasped. A couple of people even screamed. Then there was a shocked silence as we all waited and watched the now-empty stage. After a moment, we heard some muffled rustling, and then a hand emerged from beneath the platforms. Slowly, painfully, Sandy pulled herself back up, edged a knee out, and got to her feet. She took a deep breath.

“GOODBYEEEEEE TO SANDRA….. DEEEEEEEE!”

She sang those last words at top volume. The audiene erupted in cheers of relief. It was a moment I’d never forget.

A few nights ago at one of my stepdaughters’ performances, there was another moment I’ll never forget, for very different reasons.

I had gone to see a series of one act plays directed by seniors. Each play was slightly racy, having been chosen by teenagers who are always determined to test their limits. But the audience, almost entirely composed of the actors’ parents, didn’t seem to mind. Especially the mom seated behind me.

Her son was on stage, acting out his role with great gusto, particularly when he got to a line that he delivered with a mischievous grin:

“And you know what they say about guys with big feet.”

“Amen!” his mom shouted from behind me.

My eyes got wide. Was she? Did that? No. Yes.

That. was. his. Mother.

I told Hubs about it when I got home later that night (with two small children, we have to alternate performance nights now).

“Oh, that is wrong on soooo many levels,” he said incredulously.

No kidding.

This post originally appeared on Parents.com.