The Little Drummer Boy

(Every year, our church puts on a massive, multi-night Christmas production. It’s a big deal in our small community. I’m volunteering at one of the visitor desks, where I’m directing traffic and answering questions. We’re about three nights into our nine-night run. A lady with a child who looks to be about five or six comes up to me.)

Me: “Welcome! What can I help you with?”

Lady: “Where is the childcare? I need to drop him off.”

Me: “Can I ask how old your child is?”

Lady: “He’s five.”

Me: “I’m sorry, but there is only childcare from birth to age three.”

Lady: “But I was told there’d be childcare. Can’t you just put down that he’s three?”

Me: “Again, I’m sorry, but I’m not allowed to do that. It’s a very interactive family show, so I guarantee he won’t be bored!”

Lady: *huge sigh* “FINE.”

(The child starts to whine about how he doesn’t want to go to the show. I kneel down so I’m at eye level.)

Me: “Hey, the show’s pretty cool! I saw it yesterday. There are lots of lights, Christmas songs, dancers, and drummers!”

Kid: *sniffles* “Drummers?”

Me: “Yep! They come on stage with giant drums! And there are lots of other surprises that you have to watch for!”

Kid: “Cool! Mommy, I wanna go!”

Me: “Can I help you with anything else?”

Lady: *glares at me* “NO!”

(She walked off with her kid trailing behind her, talking about seeing the Christmas drummers. I hope he enjoyed it!)