November 22, 2004

I ushered for Peter Pan a while ago at Northwest Children's Theatre, and there was a little boy, about five years old, who came to the show dressed as Pan himself green tunic, feathered hat, sword on his belt. Apparently he insisted on being called Peter, and wouldn't go anywhere without his sword.

When the actress playing Wendy came into the lobby after the show, I watched as the little boy's eyes went wide. Wendy noticed him, smiled, and cried "Peter!", kneeling down and throwing her arms wide. "There's your Wendy, Peter," his mom said. "Go to her." After a moment of hesitation, Peter ran silently into Wendy's embrace, burying his face in her shoulder.

* * * * *

I saw Finding Neverland tonight and enjoyed it very much. It reminded me of several things:

* I absolutely love little boys (no, Sam, not like that, you sicko).
* Kids are way smarter than adults.
* I must always bring tissues to the movies.
* Theatre is important. Both to watch and to do.
* I won't grow up.

And now I lie in bed at three in the morning, not even remotely sleepy. I have watched TLC and HGTV to my heart's content, read my book, and taken a hot shower. And yet here I am, contemplating what it will be like to get up in five hours.

The venue gave us single hotel rooms, and Sam and I decided to have some time alone. I used to feel somewhat restricted sharing a bed with someone I'm a rather enthusiastic sleeper but it seems I can't fall asleep without Sam here, his breathing heavy and even into the pillow, the mattress yielding slightly under the weight of his slender frame, his fingers tapping gently as he dreams of playing piano.

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