Tomorrow, back to ball here at the Daily Happen. But today…

Being not only from the South and Baptist but also a preacher’s son, I have hit the trifecta on Christmas pageants. Sometimes two and three a Yuletide season. Talk to me about physics or punk rock or fiber optics. But don’t talk to me about Christmas pageants. I know about Christmas pageants.

(Except I don’t know why they call them “pageants” instead of the more workmanlike “play” or “presentation.” Pageant? Will Mary show up in an evening gown instead of maternity wear? An angel in a two-piece? Will Little Drummer Boy play while our judges tabulate final scores? We’ve got our hands full with the virgin birth, don’t you think?; let’s keep the rest of this thing simple.)

Christmas plays are not immune to fumbles. If you can’t think on your feet, go stand over there with the lowing cattle.

Case in point: a play last week that Dr. Fleet Foot, one of my besties, attended. His young granddaughter Kate was narrating. In the dark. A voice in the wilderness. With only a pen light.

Kate was steady and Mary was solid, unlike the shepherds and wise men, who started shuffling almost immediately. Girls are glue. Boys are shufflers. Note this in your next Christmas play.

The best part came when Kate’s pen light died. Without missing a beat, she turned on her cell phone and read by its light. As her granddad said, “Talk about a light in Bethlehem!”

A Christmas miracle.

My favorite Christmas play moment: The first-grade couple was coming up the aisle, having rehearsed all week with the narrator reading, “Mary, who was great with child….” The translations were switched on game night. The narrator read, “Joseph went with Mary, his fiancée, who was pregnant.”

Joseph stopped and, to Mary, his betrothed, screamed, very hurt and very unrehearsed, “Pregnant? You’re PREGNANT?!”

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