So yesterday, my mom and I partook in a tradition many cultural arts lovers and their kids carry out annually around Christmas.
We went to see The Nutcracker.
So what, big deal, right? Well, there’s a personal story behind the trip.
According to my mom, when I was about five years old, she promised to take me to see the Nutcracker at Christmastime.
Christmases would come and go, and occasionally while seeing a version of the ballet production while in front of the TV channel-surfing, I’d make a comment and she would say, “Next year, we’ll try and go.” So the promise continued, and came and went unfulfilled.
Before long, I was in my mid-twenties and would occasionally ask with a wry smile, “So when are we going to see the Nutcracker?”
So THIS year, after about 24 years of promises and guilt on my mom’s part (so she says), I decided to nip this in the bud once and for all. Two weeks ago, I trudged down to the Four Seasons Centre, grabbed the last two seats together for the December 16 matinee show, and off we went yesterday.
For someone who’s never ever seen a live ballet production, I must say I liked it … although I did feel a little dazed and sleepy towards the end. Maybe it was lack of sleep. Maybe it was the novelty finally wearing off.
Returning home on the subway, I asked my mom what she thought.
“Well,” she said, “if I took you when you were five years old, after a long week of work, I’d probably have fallen asleep.”