They love it and I am impressed by the storytellers. They put on a good show.
They dance. They sing. And they don't whack anyone which is a good feat given that they're surrounded by a mass of toddlers who tumble, bigger kids who grab and middle-size kids who alternately cry or scream.
One day I really thought the storyteller's ostrich puppet was in danger of being beheaded, bebeaked or belegged.
Another time, it seemed the sea of youngsters would swallow the storylady up in their rush to get a little world-on-a-stick thing from the laundry tub.
There are always the good kids who'll take a seat on the floor and wait patiently for a turn.
There are the tiny ones who get scared for one reason or another and run off wailing.
Then there are the troublemakers who either don't think there's enough action or just didn't wake up on the right side of the bed.
They create a little havoc and their moms chip in.
I sat by a lady yesterday whose kids weren't all that bad.
They just both wanted to sit on mom's lap.
"No!" she said as they clamored for a space. "You go sit on the floor like the other kids!"
When they resisted, she started gathering her things.
"OK, then, we're done!" she declared. "We'll just go home!"
Neither child gave in as she started heading out.
"We're so done!" she said with a mad face. "Come on, let's go!"
It was fairly distressing to the rest of us as we watched her children hang onto her pant legs, unable to find a way to save face and save the day. We couldn't hear and we couldn't watch.
Fortunately, the angry mom looked around and probably saw all of our faces as she sputtered.
"OK, one more chance," she said. "Go sit down!"
They did and the story progressed but I couldn't help but think, "Why did this lady have children? And why did they so want to sit by her and on her?"
It's a puzzle.
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