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Larry the squirrel has taken up permanent residence around our dining room window. He has made himself notable by keeping up a corpulent physique, as you can see. He hangs out on our fence, and occasionally takes a daring leap, holding onto the outside of the window, peering in. I think he likes us. I don’t know why Larry was the first name that popped into my head for the creature, but my son thought it was funny, so it stuck.

You may wonder why I have had so much time on my hands to name squirrels, and why my son is home helping me name them. Well, I had fully expected to be back at my normal routine by Wednesday at 9am, but that was before Wednesday at 5am. It was at just that moment that my older daughter produced tangible proof that her tummy felt sick, as she assured me it did before she went to sleep the night before. She was staying home. Another hour later, her brother gave me evidence that he, too, could not be in school. That left one little first grader to return, all alone, on that big yellow bus, after ten days away. All alone, she reminded me. She started to make up a song about it. She does that kind of thing when she wants to make a point.

Even Larry was glaring at me by the end of it. I drove her to school.

I know that my little girl was especially concerned that her sister would spend the day learning the songs from High School Musical II, which they had just purchased themselves on Sunday. She was afraid that big sister would be the first to know “Humu humu nuku nuku apua’a” all the way through. I think my first grader really wants to play Sharpay herself.

No, I don’t think she wants to; I know she does. In fact, she told me that her new nickname is Ashley. She has taken to wearing sunglasses around the house, puts on leotards at night instead of pyjamas. When she reclines to go to bed, she breaks into “Fabulous,” and tells me, “I want MORE!” I’ll admit, she isn’t half bad. Between this and her sister’s Britney imitations, their brother has been groaning a lot. If I start in with the torch songs, he usually turns in early and puts on his earphones to Linkin Park… and he sings along (although he denies that).

This all started a long, long time ago, but really came to life last spring, when my little girl was a Munchkin in the Framingham High School production of the “Wizard of Oz.” It was there that she discovered that it is “not scary at all” to be on stage. In fact, she told me it was really fun, because you can hear people clapping, but when the lights are on, it is all about the “world up there,” as she called it. Her one regret–no, two: she didn’t get to be Dorothy, and she did not get to be in the Jitterbug scene.

Now, I mentioned a few nights ago some highly idealistic ideas I had long before I actually had kids about how they would be spending their free moments…. something about rehearsing Hamlet, I believe. Now, Shakespeare would be fine, not to mention impressive, but what I didn’t realize when I was twenty is that kids need to be kids. In other words, all those teachable moments I was envisioning really were more about who I thought my kids should be instead of who they really are. I just had no idea how special they really would be.

I may complain a lot about my kids’ not liking a lot of the music and musicals and movies and food and so many things that I think are just wonderful… But what I do love is watching them get really excited about anything that allows them to express themselves. (Um… except tattoos. And probably some other things they will ask me about in the next few years… I hope they ask me…) At this point, though, if it’s High School Musical and Hairspray, and they are also making up their own things about the little girl alone on the school bus, and the Pegasus and the unicorn, I am just going to enjoy the show. Larry the squirrel may enjoy it, too. I would not be surprised if there is a song about Larry soon.

And as for my little girl’s lost practice time, it turns out there were no “rehearsals” yesterday. My older daughter was pale, asleep, and feverish all day, and my son looked pretty pale most of the day, too. Larry was the only one up for theatrics, and even he wandered off for a rest at some point. Now, a day later, everyone seems well again, ready for rehearsals, ready for school, ready for life. And I am ready for bed.