When Nativity Plays Go Bad.

Last year my little girl was in her first ever nativity play. Well, I say play, but actually is was just thirty 5 year olds dressed as animals and singing a grand total of three songs. But anyway, it was Christmas, it was in a church, there were fairy lights - so in my mind it just about qualifies.
Things didn't go completely according to plan though. My little sheep was in the back row and got pushed out by her best friend (duck) and a cross between a chicken and a cow. (What his mother was thinking I have no idea). So as I sat in the middle of the audience with a feeling of complete helplessness and watched my first born trying to poke her head through the farmyard animals' shoulders whilst singing with all the over expression of a performing arts graduate, I felt for the first time like one of those over protective mothers in the local play park that I frequently curl my lip at as they pass.
Oh you know the ones, don't try pretending you don't. She's the mum who carefully patrols the 2 metre perimeter of the popular baby swings watching for the moment when one of the other kids asks to be lifted out. Then you see her pass in a blur as she sprints over, scoops up her little darling and hot foots it back to the newly available swing. And woe betide anyone who tries to get in her way. She is like a sniper with her eyes on the prize. A single vision dedication to the cause. She will get her baby onto that swing before anyone else. Because her child is the most important child of all.
Anyway I digress.
After last years Nativity-gate I was looking forward to a more professional production this year. Maybe she'd even get to play Mary? Well why not? Someone has to. So on Monday she nonchalantly told us that she was going to be the narrator in this years play. The narrator?? Are you kidding?? I shot Disapproving Dad a quick look before we both launched into the usual blurb of how important the narrator was and wasn't she lucky to be picked for that etc.
'Yeah' she says 'Daisy is the Queen'.
'Is she darling, well that's nice'.
'That's the main part of this play'.
'Mmm is it, well your part is really important too'.
'And last year she was Mary'.
'Was she now'.
'And she's got much more lines that me'.
'Yes well, she probably gets beheaded at the end you know'.
'And she gets to dress up'.
'Well I shouldn't worry about that darling - all those jewels and crowns are bound to be very uncomfortable'.
'I don't want to be the stupid narrator'.
'OF COURSE YOU DON'T!!  It's the mugs part - it sucks - it's like being on the outside of a fabulous game that everyone else is playing except you. Did I just say that out loud?'.

Anyway, today she came home and told me she gets to be a fairy too. So I guess I can put down that rifle now.