It's the week before Christmas, and every parent in the country seems to be driving around in cars full of little angels, elves, Marys and Josephs on their way to kindy concerts or school break-up functions.
We've had our share of those, "had" being the operative word rather than "enjoyed", although they did extract a certain warm parental pride. We could never understand why all those other kids were on stage trying to take away from our own little stars' performances.
Perhaps the world can be grateful that we didn't own a video camera, because it will never find out about Shelley's brilliant one-legged portrayal of the virgin Mary giving birth outside the stable, while a stunned Joseph looked on.
The pillow looked nothing like its grandfather.
Youtube, will never know what it's missed.
Perhaps the ultimate insight into the psyche of a true star came during one memorable performance, when a glorious little angel of our acquaintance, having been the centre of the world spotlight for the time it takes for an entire nativity ensemble to complete a rendition of "if I were a wiggly worm", including full reprise (twice), suddenly burst into tears.
Inconsolable she was.
As the nativity throng moved with some gusto into the second verse of "Christmas where the gum-trees grow" she was sitting, sobbing on her father's knee, trying between gasps to get out the words, that would explain her demeanor.
"I didn't want to be an angel", she explained,
"I wanted to be a sheep."
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