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 in him–his fear–so something new can be born, the moment he’s been practicing for two weeks.

When it was his turn, he touched the microphone with his hand, head slightly bowed, a sea of faces staring back at him, and he paused for several seconds, unintentionally 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 he finally delivered his line, the audience and I erupted in laughter, my head jolted back from the tension of the moment 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, and I will always remember his look of joy. He knew. He knew he’d accomplished something big, and he was proud of his achievement.

Lately, he has been dressing up in a collar shirt with a tie–and when I snap my fingers–ripping off his clothes and leaping off the sofa in his underwear with a cape around his neck as Captain Underpants.

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

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He stood frozen during for 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 up 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 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 as he faces more challenges–was his fear that he’d overcome.

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 required.

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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