FatherSon Ventures

Building a Relationship through Adventure

Kids in Candyland

Written By: Scot Butwell - Aug• 10•15

Kids in Candyland

D stood at the mic to deliver his big line. He bucked his leg once like a horse in a rodeo. That’s how excited was to deliver his first line on stage.

He was standing behind a girl and waiting for her to say her line, and his grandmother missed the leg kick, but his mom confirmed he was chomping at the bit to deliver his line.

Yes, it was only one line, but in dramatic story structure, this was the climax for him, the part when something must die, so something new can be born, the culminating moment after two weeks of practice.

When it was his turn, he touched the mic with his hand, head slightly bowed, a sea of faces staring back at him, and he paused for several seconds, creating a dramatic effect.

“What are you looking for Sweet Thing?” he finally said with a loud and clear Southern twang.

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After the long pause before he delivered his line, the audience and I erupted in laughter, my head jolted back like I’d been in a car accident, and D had made his stage debut in “Kids in Candyland.”

He’d done what all protagonists are supposed do, to step up and accept the call of action. D had stepped up and in an unusually powerful way, he had delivered his line with unique style.

I loved it. I liked how his personality shined through in his line, and I will always remember his look of joy. He knew. He knew he’d accomplished something big, and he was proud to have delivered his line.

One of our favorite activities is to become characters from movies in the living room and, lately, he has taken to leaping off the top of chairs in his underwear and a cape around his neck as Captain Underpants.

And now he was on stage singing and dancing with an ensemble of 60-plus kids and as a member of his age group the Jolly Rancher group for sequenced choreographed dances.

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He stood frozen during most of the first song while everyone else danced. Maybe, he was looking for his mom and dad, and we were hard to find in the back row, or maybe his brain locked due to a case of the nerves.

But from the second song on he didn’t miss a beat and his face was beaming with an 150-watt smile the entire show and so was mine while watching his first ever stage performance.

He’d rehearsed every day for two weeks to master the songs and dance choreography. And he’d done it. He’d made his stage debut and I was so proud of him.

That something new born in D was courage. And that part of him that died–which will have to continuously die over and over and over again–was his fear that he’d overcome.

What I want D to know is that courage is a continuous, on-going action, one that must be taken afresh in every new moment when he feels fear creeping into his mind and body at the moment some kind of action is requred.

It could be just a moment like wanting to talk to a girl he likes, but this discussion on fear is probably a talk for when he is a little bit older, facing more battles between fear and the need for courage.

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