Sebi has been to his first drama class this afternoon. I've sold my true drama soul and signed him up to one of these glitzy franchised weekend stage schools that I've secretly always despised. Why then? Because, I'm afraid my littlest all-singing all-dancing performing seal may actually bloody love it.
Stu wasn't a fan of the idea at all at first. He accused me of trying to create a Mini-Me and pointed out that one Drama Queen in the house is more than enough. I think unfortunately it is too late for that; the monster has already been created. We might as well channel the show-off's energy therefore otherwise he will only start exposing himself in public again. (Just in case there is any doubt here, I am referring to Sebi and not Stu.) Seb was cast as the donkey in this year's play, hardly the most auspicious part. When I asked him how the rehearsals were going just before Christmas, he told me that he made sure that when he came on he did it in slow-motion so that everyone in the audience would definitely be looking at the donkey. Point proven - to try and guide him away from 'showing-off' at this juncture would definitely be shutting the stable door after the donkey had bolted (in slow-motion).
I'm paying the crippling fees. I don't think I can inflict rinsing the joint account on my poor husband as well as helping create a son who is more dancer than defender. Then there is the 'kit' that you need. Tap shoes AND jazz shoes. Really? At four years old? Yep, apparently so. Oh well, in for a penny, in for £245 I suppose! Owch.
Do I really want him to get the bug for this though? Will I be kicking myself in 14 years time when he is trying to get into drama school rather than reading Law/Medicine/anythingthatmightactuallygethimajob at Uni? I hope not. One of my old work colleagues, when I was working in Marketing, used to refer to my Performing Arts degree as 'Muppet Studies and Underwater Basket-weaving' as he thought that would have been equally as useful.
Let's just see how we go I guess. He came out of two hours hard-graft today declaring that he had loved it. I'm not sure how much of that might of been having his own forty-pence to spend on sweets in the tuck shop at break though. I'll add that to the bill then shall I? A friend pointed out this afternoon that surely being a drama teacher, I could just teach him myself couldn't I? I suppose I could but I have a feeling that we might clash a little and sod doing that on a Saturday anyway. I may reconsider though at some point if his drama classes become more than my salary.
A star is born? I don't think so for a minute but my goodness I look forward to the first time Sebi tap-dances in front of his Grandad. ;-)