Brushes with Fame

Last week Rob's sister Betsy, who teaches school locally, had her students put on a play about World War II. She's perhaps the best teacher in the whole entire world, having received the genes from both her father and mother, and getting the nurture from them as well. So you'll have to believe me when I say that she is able to transform 30 kids from the east side of town into soldiers and mothers and children in concentration camps for half an hour. It is an amazing introduction for them to understand some world history. We always go, as much to show the kids as to support Betsy. This year, Rob came home from work, took one look at Joss, and decided he was not going to take that loud thing to the play. So I had to stay home with the Fluffster. I was even more sad about missing it when I found out that Thomas S. Monson (the LDS church's leader of leaders) attended it. He attended it to see his grandson, who was performing in it. Almost a decade ago, I actually taught this grandson at church. He was three, and very attached to his mother, and so I had to either teach her as well, or teach class with the door open while she sat out in the hall. Betsy assures me that he has gotten over this phase and she gets to teach with the door closed. So the kids got to see the prophet and all of them were too shy to do more than wave to him. Still very cool, and fun for Betsy. Everyone has been impressed that she had security guards at her school play.
I was consoled that I got to go to the Draper temple dedication on Sunday with Maddie while Rob had to stay at home with the boys.
Monday, however, I took Will out for a date. We went to the Nickelcade where he played video games for two hours. You can be impressed now. Even the Professor, der Besten Vater an der Welt, said he's not doing that. We played Super Mario and air hockey and Skee Ball and blowup and driving games. The deer hunting game was weird -- nice music and narration by a guy who sounded like Kenneth Ellen Parcell. I found myself being lulled into a pastoral respite until the buck was shot and mounted on the wall. Disturbing. Will's favorite was a snowmobiling game called Arctic Thunder where he chose to be a half gorilla/half turtle creature named Ponzo and blast his snowmobile through Chernobyl Disaster (I am not kidding you -- could I make this stuff up?). He probably played it 6-8 times.
For dinner, we went to CPK where we were seated within Skee Ball distance of this gentleman:

He was having the quintessential Utah Valley experience with what appeared to be his wife, two children, an in-law and three small grandchildren. I tried to explain to Will about purple socks and variety shows and "I'm a little bit country/I'm a little bit rock n' roll" but I'm afraid you just had to be there to understand the appeal. After dinner, we bought some shoes in the mall, and we saw him again at the Game Stop and hanging out by the cart with the baby leg warmers, his granddaughter on his shoulders. I was surprised no one was bugging him or even seemed to notice him. I guess that around here, a toddler is a great disguise.

Rob says that had he been there, he could not have helped himself. He (and his friend Heather A.) would have serenaded Osmondia with their spoons for mics
"May tomorrow be a perfect day/ May you find love and laughter along the way/ May God keep you in his tender care/ 'till he brings us together again."

I don't doubt that the Professor would have done it.