Scream-along Nutcracker

One of San Francisco's unique traditions is the Dance-along Nutcracker, performed by the LGBT Orchestra and friends. The performers are of all ages, shapes and genders — without regard to the role played — and the audience is invited to dance along over a dozen times in a style closer to a bacchanal than a ballet. Thanks to our good friend Krista, we were in the front row and only 5 feet from the giant rat who would be narrating this rat-ified version of The Nutcracker, as perceived or conceived by all the rats vilified in previous versions of The Nutcracker.

After much fuss in getting there (yes, we need to go fast, fast, fast. No, you can't touch the train while it goes by. No, you don't have to smile or talk to that man with the bottle in his hand), we were finally installed in our seats and ready for the band to begin. At their first trumpeted notes and the opening song of the six-foot rat, Shawn Joaquin began to wail.

I WANNA GO HOOOOME!
I WANNA GO HOOOOOME NOOOOOOOOOWWWWWWW!
THIS IS TOO SCARY! THIS IS NOT FOR CHILDREN!!!

All of this was of course picked up by the mic five feet in front of us, much to my chagrin and the dual amusement and annoyance of those around us. I did the classic duck and run with him in my arms, trying to convince him that the towering rat was our friend, the band was just comprised of geeks and nerds (yes, even gay bands are nerdy and wear tennis shoes with dress pants and make unfortunate decisions when it comes to whether to tuck or not tuck) who would never hurt us, and that all would soon be good and right with the world.

Life with a child who has unreasonable fear and a need for order embedded in his heart can be challenging. He regularly shrieks DON'T SMILE AT ME, WHY ARE YOU LAUGHING? if he sees amusement on one of his parent's faces. In his room, no item can be out of place or at less than right angles without inducing a screaming panic attack. He is afraid of new people, pants with tags, loud music outside of the genres in which he is most comfortable, being left at the bottom of the stairs while I precede him, using the wrong color towel, taking off his own socks, having a door closed too quickly or his clothing put on or pulled off with any speed. He is panicked and angered by mismatched pajamas, the prospect of me spending time with Gregg, phone calls in which his name is mentioned, unanswered questions, pretend games that last for more than two minutes and are not instigated by him, crooked pictures and unexpected laughter. As deeply as I love my son, some of our public moments are tinged with embarrassment or annoyance, like having to scoop and run in the spotlight meant for the giant rat at The Nutcracker.

We returned to our seats after five minutes of fierce whispers, calming his fears and assuring him there was nothing to be afraid of and that if in five minutes he still wanted to leave we would. Thankfully, the rat learned not to look Shawn Joaquin in the eye, Shawn Joaquin's sugar high from a candy cane kicked in and he let loose with some of his patented spin around and fall down dance moves. While he never took his eye off the rat, we were able to enjoy 2 hours of dancing, singing and generally spastic behavior. During that time I was able to see that sweet, sweet boy I enjoyed for nearly four years before his sister arrived and ruined his life. I can only hope to see him again and more often in the coming weeks and months, and pray that some day he will return to us full time...at least until adolescence, when I fully expect that his raging hormones will be accompanied by bad behavior that masks his good, inner self. And then I will pull out this photo to remind me of his inner goodness and, if necessary, to blackmail him into at least pretending he likes me in front of his friends.