This past weekend Rick and I pack up our 47 kids and head into Manhattan. We are off to see ImaginOcean, a live glow-in-the-dark musical. Now I don’t know what that means exactly but it sounds cool. Plus, the tickets are complimentary. A perfect Sunday activity.
We park the car and unload 4 kids (that prior number of 47 was just an estimate), a diaper bag, a snack bag and two Bjorns. Then we make our way in the frigid winter weather to the theater on 50th street. I approach the will call window.
“Hi. I’m picking up tickets for Imaginocean.”
I smile at Rick. I love my husband. I love live theater. I love being back in Manhattan. I love being out and about. Sure we have four kids. But dammit, we can still bring it. Back off suburbia. You can’t keep us from the capital of the world.
“That show was at 12 pm,” says the man at the will call window.
But apparently, you can keep us from seeing ImaginOcean.
“I thought the show started at 2 pm!” I gasp. Really. I gasp.
“Nope. Noon. It’s over.”
I guess Rick and I can still bring it. Just two hours late.
“Is there another showing?” I ask, DESPERATELY.
Wednesday? Wednesday would be a long wait. What are we going to do? Panic has set in.
And then there is a January miracle. (A January miracle is like a Christmas miracle but with less holly and mistletoe.) The box office offers us tickets to Freckleface Strawberry The Musical instead. Which starts in 15 minutes. 15 perfect minutes. At the same location. A January miracle indeed.
Oh thank you. Oh thank you. Oh thank you.
And the show is pretty fabulous. It’s based on the book by actress Julianne Moore and it’s one of the best kids’ shows I’ve ever seen. Great music, talented cast and even the babies are pretty quiet through the whole thing.
And the girls’ even got temporary freckles.
P.S. A review of ImaginOcean is pending until I can learn how to read a performance schedule and a clock.
P.P.S I think I will have mastered those skills by the end of January. March at the latest.