Teh Irony ...

We took the child unit to see Playhouse Disney Live tonight. (Well, last night, technically, since it is now 2:30 in the blessed AM where I live. And, I ask myself: WHY AREN'T YOU SLEEPING?!?)

You know, if you had asked me just a few years ago, I would have said I would not be caught dead watching something like a Playhouse Disney Live show. I would have said it with feeling and vigor. And it would have been hella true, too. But times change. Becoming a mommy makes you go all soft and squishy inside. And suddenly, things that, before, seemed like hell on earth (literally) begin to feel like A Very Good Idea. Just because they make the one, important little person in your life smile and laugh with joy. And, yes, Playhouse Disney Live definitely falls into this category.

This, however, is not the irony.

Being Playhouse Disney Live, the stadium was, of course, packed with kids. And their parents. Their obnoxious parents, all of whom adore their children so much they are going to make DAMN SURE, COME HELL OR HIGH WATER their little darling has THE BEST TIME EVAH at the show. No matter who they have to maim or kill in the process.

This, though, is also not the irony.

A few rows down from us was a couple who had three kids. One child who was, maybe, a year or two younger than my child unit, and two babies -- possibly twins, since they looked close to the same age. Although, who can tell with babies? I mean seriously -- they all look pretty much the same. And I say this as someone who has had a baby of their own -- a baby, I might add, that I doted over and oohed and aaahed over, and, of course, would never admit looked pretty much like every other baby out there. Oh no, that baby was special because she was MY baby. Yeah -- it's a parental thing. It makes no sense in the real world.

And this, of course, is not the irony, either.

All during the show (when the lights were down in the stadium so the kids could see the stage), the father in this family took pictures. Not of the stage, which would have been entirely sane and rational. After all, he could sell those for big bucks on Ebay(!) ... or, well, wherever it is that people sell things now that Ebay has gone insane. Oh no, he was facing backward and taking pictures of his oldest child -- who, of course, was so enamored with the action on stage that he had no idea his father was taking pictures. Heck, let's be honest. This kid had no idea his father was even on the same planet as him.

But, you see, I knew this kid's father was there. I knew this because said father was facing me, and each blast of flashbulb from his camera seared itself onto my light-deprived retinas. I could see the picture taking each and every time I closed my eyes, and I would manage to get rid of the "flashy-light-thingy" in my brain only to open my eyes and find this kid's father taking yet another damn picture! I mean, seriously ... I am a parent. I would even go so far as to say I can be an obnoxious parent if the occasion presents itself. But, how many poorly-lit pictures of your kid hypnotized into a drooling mess of Disney-brained kid-goo does a person need? My best instincts say one, at the most. But, apparently, the answer to this universal mystery is at least five hundred and seventy eight.

Which brings us, at last, to the irony.

At the end of Playhouse Disney Live, all the Disney characters are on stage, having participated in a giant "Music Party" during which they shared their favorite songs with their friends. They are talking about how we can bring peace and love to the world with the universal language of music.

And all I can think about is how much I want to walk down two rows and smash that damn camera into little, itty, bitty pieces.

Ah ... memories. ♥