mousekingI went to pick up the nine year old at ice skating today.  It was the first day of practice for the big annual Nutcracker on Ice show that her rink puts on every year.  (Not to brag about it, but the gel competed for and won the role of the Sugar-Plum Fairy this year.)

I dutifully sat through a number of practices and rehearsals last year as well.  (The gel was – if memory serves – one of the Arabian dancers that year.) Now, I don’t mind trotting out the ol Nutcracker once a year (we have a DVD of the old Baryshnikov/Kirkland performance that used to run on PBS every Christmas), but the truth is that I really don’t much like Tchaikovsky.   And as I walked in today and heard the familiar strains of his musick coupled with the Valley Girl narration that accompanies it for this particular kiddy production, my eyelid began to twitch involuntarily.  

Rehearsals go on for the next six weeks or so.  It strikes me that the poor people actually involved in putting such a show together, who have to hear these tracks over and over and over again, by the end would be begging the Mouse King to run them through the eardrums with his rapier.