Norman the Pig, The Crock-A-Saurus and One Heck of A Fight Between Sleeping Beauty and Zurg

Jake and I “fight” a lot. In fact, if it were up to Jake we would fight all the time. Jake is my 4 year old and his idea of fighting is tickling and wrestling around on the bed while pretending to be various superheroes. Tonight, Allison, my 2 year old, wanted to join in. Jake had already claimed SpiderMan and proclaimed me Zurg (the villain from ToyStory) so we wondered what Allison would be. Her response? Sha-Booty. For those who don’t speak 2 year-old that translates to Sleeping Beauty. I just started to explain that Sleeping Beauty wasn’t a superhero and wasn’t a villain but Jake just spat out, “OK, You’re Sha Booty…now let’s get Zurg!” It turned into a 15 minute fight that was the ultimate cross-promotional cameo-filled event that would have made Hollywood proud (Marvel Superhero vs. Disney heroine vs. Pixar villain).

I’m glad that I didn’t get a chance to say anything. Sometimes we grown-ups make the mistake of limiting those fantastic imaginations. Sometimes we just get in the way by insisting certain things are always certain ways. Thousands of books and seminars are held every year as managers try to get their employees to think “outside the box”. But what if we just allowed our kiddos to keep stretching their imaginations? What if we stopped insisting that certain thoughts are “conventional” or “acceptable”? That there is only one way to do some things?

I thought about it for a minute and quickly thought of two pieces that were in the back of my mind.

The first is from Robert Fulghum’s Uh-Oh: Some Observations from Both Sides of the Refrigerator Door:

A Kindergarten teacher I know was asked to have her class dramatize a fairy tale for a Teacher's Conference. After much discussion, the teacher achieved consensus on that old favorite, "Cinderella." The classic old "rags to riches" the story that never dies. "Cream will rise" is the moral of this tale - someday you may get what you think you deserve. It's why adults play the lottery with such passion.

"Cinderella" was a good choice from the teacher's point of view because there were many parts and lots of room for discretionary padding of parts so that every child in the class could be in the play. A list of characters was compiled as the class talked through the plot of the drama: There was the absolutely ravishing Cinderella, the evil stepmother, the two wicked and dumb stepsisters, the beautiful and wise fairy godmother, the pumpkin, mice, coachman, horses, the king, all the people at the Kings ball - generals, admirals, knights, princesses and of course, that ultimate object of fabled desire, the Prince - good news incarnate.

The children were allowed to choose roles for themselves. As the parts were allotted, each child was labeled with felt pen and paper, and sent to stand on the other side of the room while casting was completed. Finally, every child had a part.

Except one.

One small boy. Who had remained quiet and disengaged from the selection process. A somewhat enigmatic kid - "different" - and because he was plump for his age, often teased by the other children.

"Well, Norman," said the teacher, "who are you going to be?"

"Well," replied Norman, "I am going to be the pig."

"Pig? There's no pig in this story."

"Well, there is now."

Wisdom was fortunately included in the teacher's school bag. She looked carefully at Norman. What harm? It was bit of casting to type. Norman did have a certain pigginess about him, all right. So be it. Norman was declared the pig in the story of Cinderella. No one else wanted to be the pig, anyhow, so it was quite fine with the class. And since there was nothing in the script explaining what the pig was supposed to do, the action was left up to Norman.

As it turned out, Norman gave himself a walk-on part. The pig walked along with Cinderella wherever Cinderella went, ambling along on all fours in a piggy way, in a costume of his own devising - pink long underwear, complete
with trapdoor rear flap, pipe-cleaner tail, and a paper cup for a nose. He made no sound; he simply sat on his back haunches and observed what was going on, like some silently supportive Greek chorus. The expressions on his face reflected the details of the dramatic action. Looking worried, sad, anxious, hopeful, puzzled, mad, bored, sick, and pleased as the moment required. One look at the pig and you knew. So very "there." The pig brought gravity and mythic import to this well-worn fairy tale.

At the climax, when the Prince finally placed the glass slipper on the Princess's foot and the ecstatic couple hugged and rode off to live happily ever after, the pig went wild with joy, danced around on his hind legs, and broke his silence by barking.

In rehearsal, the teacher tried explaining to Norman that even if there was a pig in the Cinderella story, pigs don't bark. But as she expected, Norman explained that THIS pig barked.

And the barking, she admitted was well done.

The presentation at the Teacher's Conference was a smash hit. At the
curtain call, guess who received a standing ovation? Of course, Norman, the barking pig.

Who was, after all, the REAL Cinderella story.

Word of a good thing gets around, and the kindergarten class had many invitations to come and perform Cinderella. Sometimes the teacher had to explain what it was about the performance that was so unique.
"It has a pig in it, you see?"
"Oh, really?"
"Yes, the star of the show is .... a BARKING Pig."
"But there is no barking pig in "Cinderella."
"Well, there is now."

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The second piece is a piece of music from Billy Crockett. Billy is a Christian musician that is very popular with young people but has that amazing ability to provoke adults to think deeply while entertaining all ages. The piece I am thinking of is from his live album, In These Days. (Fabulous!) I have tried to insert a mp3 clip but haven’t figured out how. So, in lieu of that, here are the lyrics from Crock-A-Saurus. If I figure out how to get the clip uploaded I will.

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Crock-A-Saurus

The handed out the crayons to each of us first graders,

Then the teacher passed between us and gave each a piece of paper.

“Put aside your problems,” she said,

“Feet flat on the floor.

We’re gonna have some fun now and draw a dinosaur.”

So I quickly grabbed a crayon and drew his big green eyes,

The purple on his earlobes,

His polka-dotted thighs,

The pink and orange spikes that ran all down his tail and

As I colored in his toes the teacher turned quite pale.

“The colors are all wrong,” she said,

“That isn’t how look.”

Then she held up some grey monster that she’d found in a book.

“If you wouldn’t draw so fast,” she said,

“You might learn a lot from science.”

She really didn’t want my art,

Her interest was compliance.

Well I finished up his toenails

And I drew in his moustache.

I decked him out in pinstripes

And yes I flunked the class.

But that teacher is extinct now

And the scientists are dead.

I still have my Crock-a-saurus

He’s dancing in my head.