The Duracell Bunny (aka Young Morgan) is to be a king in the school nativity play. I am delighted that he has landed a starring role, one befitting his many talents.
except...His father, My Boy, tells me that all the lads in Morgan's class are kings. Apparently it is seen as a way of knitting the class together. Whatever that may entail. It means that there are now fifteen kings in the nativity so presumably the whole
Reception Class is being taught a variation on that age-old Christmas carol: "We fifteen kings of Orient are." Me, I'm worrying about the presents. Are they all bringing gold, frankincense and myrrh - or will the Baby Jesus receive a few Pokemon DS games as
Mind you, three years ago when Morgan's brother James was the same age, he was allocated the part of an ox in the school nativity and wasn't the least bit pleased. As I fearlessly reported in the Daily
Blog, he wasn't hankering after the top jobs, as in Joseph, a king, or even a shepherd. "I just wanted to be a human," he told me, sadly. I was, as you can imagine, firmly on his side.
I tell my friends at
our Nomination Whist group this afternoon about the fifteen kings. Margaret says she can top that: one small person of her acquaintance is Bob the Builder in a school nativity. Now I am a great admirer of Bob the Builder - I still recall my delight when his
song made it to number one in the Christmas charts some years back. "Can we fx it? Yes, we can!" That's a Man After My Own Heart. Nevertheless, I can't quite picture him in the Christmas story.
At the mid-session
break in our Whist Afternoon, after making sure that everyone has his or her choice of drink and a biscuit or three, I tell my card-playing friends that I am going to show them a magic trick. It's not quite exactly magic, to be honest, but at our last gathering,
a fortnight ago, my home-made Christmas baubles had been much admired so the least I can do is to let them in on my secret.
I produce a pot full of hot water, a polystyrene ball, a pair of handy tongs - and
a colourful shrink wrap decorated with Christmas flowers. In my best Magician Manner, I place the wrap around the ball, hold it with the tongs (that's the tricky bit) and plunge it into the hot water. I refrain from exclaiming "Abracadabra!" but it's a close
call. My audience literally gasps as the wrap shrinks onto the ball. It is a most gratifying reaction to a Novice Magician such as I though I feel honour bound to pay due credit to the Lovely Linda who leads our fortnightly craft sessions and introduced me
to the Magic of Shrink Wrap.
My Boy sends me a photo of Morgan dressed in Kingly Splendour. He looks extremely pleased with himself and is obviously not bothered by the fact that he is But One of Many. Looking
more closely at the photo, I can see one of his brothers is kneeling down on the floor behind him, hands clasped above his head like a true supplicant.
Apparently as well as every boy in Morgan's class being
a king, every girl is an angel. Clearly there is no way their teacher can be accused of favouritism. I wish I didn't live so far away - I'd love to watch King Morgan in his play, I'd be able to pick him out among all the other kings I'm sure. What do you call
a collection of kings, by the way? A coronation of kings? A crowning?I feel as if I am missing out and, as regular readers know full well, I hate missing out on anything.
Perhaps if I keep practising on the
shrink wrap, I could work out how to magic myself there?