Pssst…. act. Act!
Mom noted that our older son would be in a Thanksgiving play, one of three his class would be doing. Without hearing more, I began an anecdotal lecture as I am prone to do.
“You know,” I started, “You need to be careful when acting.”
I proceeded to tell him about sixth grade history class. We were studying American History (American being “North America”, not the USA specifically). As an example, we were going to put on a play about the Battle of Quebec, where the English snuck up the cliff, surprised the French and took over the city (IIRC). I would play the French guard. Justin, a classmate, was the English soldier. In our scenario, he would come up behind me, “slit” my throat and enter the city we built of chairs at the front of the classroom. It went as planned, but when I fell “dead”, I slammed my head into the stone tile floor. The resounding thud surprised everyone. Unhurt, yet motionless, I layed there playing the part of a dead soldier. Our teacher, unsure if I had survived the fall or had knocked myself unconscious, stopped the play to ask if I was okay. I lifted my head and responded yes, but I was annoyed that my Oscar-worthy performance was being interrupted. Had I been careful, I wouldn’t have hit my head, causing the pause in the action.
“We’re doing a puppet show,” he informed me when I had finished my story.
“Oh,” I said, “That’s good. The worst that can happen when a puppet hits his head is you hurt your hand.”
He clarified further: “We have ultra-tight security. We’re using popsicle sticks.”