Thank goodness it’s over.
This morning was the elementary school talent show, and my nine-year-old performed in the opening act. A few of her lines were sung solo at the mike, and last night I worried what would happen if she stood too close or spoke too softly or forgot the words, or who knew what else. At bedtime she asked her guardian angel to stay close by her side.
Evie had already been disappointed enough. She’d tried out, singing Kelly Clarkson’s “Stronger,” but didn’t make the cut to perform in this morning’s big show. The judges had wiggled in their seats, mouthed along with the song and clapped hard after her audition, so she was crushed when she learned she just wasn’t one of the top performers.
She and the 70 other kids who didn’t make the cut were invited to perform in the opening act, so I hoped that would give Evie a lift and encourage her to maybe try again next year.
This morning the audience applauded wildly for these “also ran” kids, who’d learned a new song and a choreographed routine in just two after-school practices. On stage they took their places and traded places and marched around and waved their hands in the air and switched up at the mike … and then it was Evie’s turn.
Halfway into her solo the backup music stopped. Someone rushed to the boom box. Evie hesitated for the briefest moment and finished a cappella. The next kid faltered. A teacher took the mike. “You know what,” she said. “Let’s just take it from the top.”
The kids cheered. Redheaded Evie did a joyful hop. No harm done. They’d get to shine all over again. These little angels knew how to deal with disappointment: Jump right back in there, go for it again and love every single minute. Now that’s talent.
