Today was all about introducing Devilboy to the world of the theatre at a cleverly irreligious Christmas Baby Proms performance of The Three Kings at the Sydney Opera House.
A stage of twinkling stars, an orchestra and singing had Devilboy and his BFF Devilboy 2 but a set of opera glasses away from becoming die-hard theatre buffs.
But the real action wasn’t on the stage. In fact it was seated about two feet away from me in the guise of a twinkling star of a different kind. Well at least she would have twinkled had she been able to move a solitary muscle in her famously frozen face.
This “completely natural” Oscar winning movie star and her Grammy grabbing (and surprisingly hot) hubby had also decided to bring their genetically blessed tot along for some infant theatrics of the tantyless kind. And that was where it all turned to hell.
You see Devilboy, in classic form, decided to do a runner. And his mummy, in bulging gutted and lumbering form, decided to give chase… navigating a toddler strewn carpet in her attempt to capture her errant offspring.
Devilboy was quickly detained but in my elephantine and inelegant trek back to our celebrity strewn seats I nearly took the head off the superstar progeny with an ill-placed size 9 that came within centimetres of her unsuspecting little face.
Suitably embarrassed, I apologised to the waxy one and in return was rewarded with an Oscar worthy death stare that, coming from such a freakishly frozen face, was nothing short of terrifying. How the hell you can communicate that much contempt in a face that is literally completely immobile is anyone’s guess. I mean this is a face so devoid of lines, or even pores for that matter, that it’s bordering on the otherworldly, something she puts down to the regular use of sunscreen. That is some pretty fucking impressive sunscreen -perhaps if we slathered some of that shit across the hole in the ozone layer we’d be able to stop global warming!
I’m not blaming the super sunscreened one for her for her maternal protectiveness. In fact, I’d have reacted exactly the same – except with wrinkles and actual facial movement and a bunch of extremely foul language (muttered carefully under breath so as to not upset the kiddies) if some clumsy twat nearly beheaded my child.
So Devilboy’s introduction to the performing arts was mostly about his moronic and mortified mummy being a mere centimetre or two away from being dragged off and beaten to death by security… and her newly aquired a-list adversery being a mere botox injection or two away from being put on display as her own doppleganger at Madame Taussaud’s.