Tallulah’s school is very heavily into drama at the moment. In English they are doing a recreation of A Midsummer Night’s Dream. They have been entrusted with the play within a play, where the mechanicals re-enact the tragic myth of Pyramus and Thisbe.
Tallulah is most excited about this: ‘Mum. I’m going to be Thisbe. It’s going to be excellent.’
Me: ‘I thought you’d have enjoyed being the lion (who eats Thisbe) more?’
Tallulah: ‘No! If I’m Thisbe I get to be a girl, pretending to be a man who is pretending to be a girl, and that means I can do all squeaky stuff with my voice. It’s brilliant. Listen…’
At this point we are subjected to a noise like a balloon being deflated with a thousand tortured mice inside it.
I think that I would have preferred it if she had been the chink (i.e. a non-speaking part).
She tells me about how they’re going to do it.
Tallulah: ‘We have to give it a contemporary setting. We’re doing it in Sainsburys’. It’s all going on in the yogurt aisle.’
Me: ‘Well, that could work. Will there be shopping trolleys.’
Tallulah: ‘Certainly there will.’
This cheers me up.
Two days later she starts to tell me about the latest rehearsal.
Tallulah: ‘We need some Mickey Mouse ears.’
Me: ‘For Sainsburys’?’
Tallulah: ‘No! We’re not doing Sainsburys’ anymore. It’s set in Disneyland.’
Me: ‘Oh, God.’
Tallulah: ‘Shut up, mum! It will be brilliant. I can do mouse squeaks as well, because I’m Thisbe as Minnie Mouse.’
Me: ‘Oh, God!’
Tallulah: ‘Shush now!’
Last night, before the pigeon incident at dinner:
Tallulah: ‘I’m being veal calf 24601 in the school play.’
Me: ‘I am so confused. In Disneyland?’
Tallulah, throwing me a withering glance: ‘NO! This is for a different play. We’re doing about battery farming and I am veal calf 24601.’
Me: ‘Who is veal calf 24600?’
Tallulah, throwing me withering look number two: ‘There isn’t one. It’s from Les Mis. It’s Jean Valjean’s prison number.’
Me: ‘I’m sure he’d be proud to be recast as a battery farmed veal calf.’
Tallulah: ‘Yes. Well, anyway. It’s very sad, and Lucy is being a L’Oreal rabbit who’s having mascara tested on her eyes. She has to cry and cry and say: ‘AM I WORTH IT?’
Me: ‘Yes. Well that is very hard hitting.’
Tallulah: ‘Not as hard hitting as the bit where Najmo is a chicken with no beak or feet and we drag her around the stage singing ‘How can you sleep at night?’ to the farmer.’
Me: ‘I can only imagine.’