The Big Kid was taken to the theatahhhh, ever so generously, by a dear friend this afternoon (thank you again!). It was a touring Broadway production of The WIzard of Oz, and apparently she quite liked it (although all I could get out of her was that Glinda was "very, very beautiful", and she wanted to know why water melted the witch; I couldn't help but think of Wicked).
Of all of the many traits of my firstborn, her patience for and dedication to the arts is one of my favorites. If I'm allowed to say so, it's striking. As my friend very aptly put it, she is "a born patron of the arts". She is kind of an exhausting child to parent, because of her sensitivity and intensity, but the flip side is that she has passion and a keen insight; she processes what she sees, chews on it and makes meaning of it and takes it into herself. All that sensitivity isn't there for nothing, I guess.
Despite the constant drama of my little drama queen, I quite like her. I'm looking forward to knowing her as an older child, adolscent and woman. I expect we will be able to talk about books and art and music and plays, which will be a wonderful gift. I have little doubt that we will be able to share a love of Jane Austen and BBC period dramas, which is...oh, my. More than I could have ever asked for in a child.
In these early years of her life, she's been exceptionally fortunate to have friends and family who are willing and able to expose her to enormous variety and incredible quality in the arts. She sees local family theater, professional ballet and symphony orchestras, fine art exhibits, handcrafts and films. Frankly she is light years ahead of me; the adult me, let alone the 5 year-old me. Much of my education in the arts is coming alongside hers as we explore in advance of and after taking in a show of some kind (and this, my friends, is why home education can be pure magic).
In the coming weeks she has quite the schedule. We're going to the symphony to hear some Mozart music, which we will prep for by reading some children's literature about his life and work, listening to CDs and (crossing my fingers on this one) taking a peek at the Ingmar Bergman Magic Flute, which I found at the library (it's opera, it's over two hours long, and it is in Swedish; I'm recklessly optimistic that she will love it).
Then there is a family theater performance of Alice in Wonderland, dovetailing brilliantly with her new obsession with the Tim Burton film and (yay!) the original story. She hasn't seen the Disney animated film yet, so that is on our agenda, as is further reading (biographies are always in the offing around here). There's an audiobook read by Jim Dale I'm going to try to track down, and I may have also purchased a pattern and some blue fabric, but don't tell the kid.
And then of course there's this pink creampuff:
She saw this advertisement in a local parenting magazine, tore it out and taped it on her wall. So I think she's a little excited to go with her Other Mother (not the Gaiman kind of Other Mother, the kind that takes you to the ballet and lets you trade your sugar cookie for her salted caramel ice cream and is very understanding and patient with you when you Want All of the Things in the gift shop).
Cinderella prep is pretty light. I'm thinking that we will find some alternative versions of the story, and listen to the Prokofiev score a number of times.
It strikes me that a great deal of the home learning that we do grows right out of her pointed interest in the arts, and particularly performing arts. Everything is connected, of course, with one topic bleeding right into another, or rather all of them tangled up like a ball of yarn. You're never sure which strand goes where and how it's all tied up together, just that you pull the string in one spot and it tugs away somewhere else, somewhere totally different and yet, of course, connected all along.
I love the quality of discovery in working together to learn something. I love the process, as my daughter's companion in all of this, of tumbling down the rabbit hole of each topic, finding books and CDs and experiences that complement and expand on that little duo of dark, rich hours she spends in a velveteen seat watching the marvel of the human animal putting on a show.
I love sitting there with her, holding her hand, and coming to know the world a little better.