A running diary where I make fun of my daughter’s holiday concert

(in lieu of a 2024 recap)

File this one under: cruel parenting

For my final post of 2024, I’m not doing any sort of year-end reflections. I don’t like New Year - it’s never been the same since I found out Jools Holland’s Annual Hootenanny was pre-recorded. Instead of being too much of a downer, I’ll share something more fun instead.

You’re probably reading this in 2025 anyway.

10 December 2024: my six-year-old daughter’s Christmas concert

5pm: time to start. This is the 7^th or 8^th (but who’s counting?) seasonal concert I’ve been to. They never start on time. Kids are running maniacally around the dance floor.

Eleven minutes later, they announce we’re delayed due to late arrivals. They blame it on bad traffic. No shit, it’s rush hour, the same damn thing happens every time! There’s never not bad traffic.

Everyone had to bring some food for the buffet and as usual, there’s an impressive spread, which we’re not supposed to touch until afterwards. But the longer you wait, the grubbier the kids’ hands. There’s a 7% chance I won’t get sick after this.

Feeling peckish, I sneak in for a snack and get told off, first in Russian and then in German. I can plausibly claim to understand neither language as I meekly shrug and say “sorry, I don’t understand.” Playing the role of dumb foreigner has its advantages.

I send my daughter up to get me a sarnie, she’s fearless and willing to take one for the team. It’s almost enough to forgive her for kicking me in the balls.

Before the concert starts, a medley of Christmas tunes are playing. We’re getting 20-30 second snippets, most of them cover versions. The kids are enjoying them.

Surprisingly, a 30-second sample of “Fairytale of New York” is played, which will be the first and only time this holiday season I hear it, and in the unlikeliest of places. This is a song rarely heard in these parts (Central Europe).

It clears the dance floor. Clearly not a big hit.

Nor was it a big hit all the years I forced my students to listen to it. It was about 25% hit, 70% miss, and 5% WTF.

Anastasia was part of the [elite] 25%. (She also called me a prostitute in my book, but that’s okay, she made a fair point and eloquently backed it up.)

The concert finally starts. There are kids from the ages of 4-18. Lots of people are filming. Why do people film other kids? Will they ever watch this? Most of it is terrible, let’s be honest, not much worth watching unless it’s your own kid.

Sat next to me is a little girl coughing non-stop. She either has tuberculosis or whooping cough. This is great. Why do parents bring out their sniffling, coughing kids to these things? My chances of not getting sick have plummeted to 2%.

In between performances we’re getting more Christmas ditties, interspersed with some other odd choices. “Informer” by Snow? First time I’ve heard this in decades. Is this a Christmas song?

There’s a stroppy looking 10-year-old boy with a Nirvana hoodie. Does he have any idea who Nirvana are/were? Sure, say it – “ok boomer!” – but I find it bizarre when youth today wear Joy Division or Pink Floyd t-shirts without being fans of the bands. That was unheard of in my day.

I still proudly wear my Blur ‘BeerOK’ shirt from the early 90s, even though it’s falling apart. See kids, that’s how you do it.

My daughter does her routine. It’s a bit shaky. She’s like me as a teacher – at her best when she’s improvising and going off plan. Her routine with her dance class friends is okay, but she’s much better when faffing about and doing her thing unprompted.

Now I see a teenager with this on the back of her hoodie:

Is your ex aware of this?

This has been a long-running fascination/obsession of mine – clothing slogans in non-English speaking countries and whether people know what they mean. I asked this girl and she was barely aware of what it said. (She also gave me permission to share this photo as long as I didn’t say anything bad. Is this bad?)

Our family’s buffet contribution was devilled eggs (not made by me). They’re delicious but once they’ve been out with these kids snivelling and snotting all over them, is it worth the risk?

It’s far more entertaining watching kids mess about on the stage and screw up their routines. This gets chuckles from the parents, even if it might traumatise the poor kids one day. Good clean, comedic fun.

When teenage couples do their salsa or rumba routines, I can’t watch. It feels wrong to look, especially when they come dangerously close to where I’m sitting.

I feel bad for some of these kids. A few look short on confidence and they’re trying their best. I almost want to approach them and say well done, but…I’m not sure how their parents will react. That’s their job, surely?

To hell with it, I told one poor girl that she’d done great. “Really?” she asked. “Yes, you were great!” Was she really? No, she was a disaster, but the poor thing tried and looked terrified out there. That’s my Christmas spirit contribution, cheering this poor girl up. She seemed pleased.

I may or may not have got a bit teary-eyed after this. Okay, let’s move on quickly.

There’s a Santa and a creepy, obnoxious elf trying to keep things organised. Take it from me, a supremely-organised, always on the ball teacher (haha), this Santa’s classroom management skills are piss poor. He’s got no control over these kids. They’re running riot all over him.

He’s shouting at them now: “STOP! QUIET! LISTEN!” This is never a good idea.

The same cover version of “Last Christmas” has now been played about 5 times. It’s truly terrible. Painfully insipid. Is there a good cover version of this song?

The elf is, to quote

Nicola Mostyn

, “a little bastard”, to quote

Sara

, “a little green prick,” and to quote

Lewis Holmes

, a “little green twat.” (Though Nicola was talking about that wretched Elf on the Shelf, while for Sara and Lewis it was that nasty green owl from Duolingo.)

They’re all a bunch of ghastly creatures.

Now we’re getting Santa and his nitwit elf (who never shuts up and is doing my head in) with a progressive house and trance version of “Jingle Bells” blasting. This is like a mashup/remix of Tubular Bells, 2 Unlimited, Sasha and Digweed, Robert Miles and Brian Eno. Naturally, it’s dire.

Another parent, a very pretty woman, has come over to where I’m sitting to get a better shot of her kid. She’s standing in front of me but isn’t blocking my view at all. But as there’s an empty seat next to me, I motion for her to sit down. She looks annoyed, thinking I was asking her to get out of my way.

Now I feel awkward. I was only trying to be polite. She sits, but after a few seconds, gets up and goes back to the other side of the room. Good thing I’m not attempting to flirt at all.

This damn thing is dragging, and now there’s a mess of plastic strips being blown all over the place, accompanied by a poor man’s Snap/Dr Alban. It’s chaos and getting late. Time to go home?

Not very eco-friendly

I’m hungry and start nosing about for more snacks, but dare I risk it? It’s a mess and who the hell knows what nasty germs are floating about. There’s now a 99% chance my daughter and I will both be ill in two days.

Eventually things wind down, but now comes the biggest challenge of all. Getting all these hyped-up, sugar overdosed kids off the dance floor and home. They don’t want to go.

I see the woman I insulted earlier (maybe?) coming towards me, ready to leave, and I attempt to explain myself and my intentions. Luckily she speaks English, smiles politely and says it’s okay. Phew…I think. I fear the worst. I honestly was just trying to be polite, nothing more!

It’s sometime after 7pm. Maybe 7.30.

We finally go but have a ridiculously long journey home after public transport kerfuffle. Maybe there was something to those delays at the start.

The next morning

My daughter’s school has an outdoor caroling performance, 1^st through 4^th grades.

A class of 4^th graders sings “Last Christmas,” which is both cute and awkward at the same time.

It’s the best cover version of the song I’ve ever heard. Dare I say it’s even better than the original? I wish I’d recorded it now.

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I suppose I ought to say Happy New Year and thanks for reading this year. I’ll try to do better in 2025.