Nutcracker for kids: It’s all about the bed

December 11, 2013 by Beth Shepherd

“Where the bed go?”

“I want to see bed.”

“What happened to bed?”

I’ve seen the Nutcracker countless times, and I must confess that the whereabouts of the bed never crossed my mind. But this was my little sugar plum’s primary concern at the Evergreen City Ballet’s performance. It was her very first Nutcracker experience, and she was enthralled with every little detail. Especially, the bed.

The Evergreen City Ballet’s Nutcracker couldn’t be more kid-friendly. Not only have they created a masterful abbreviated version of the original (read: one hour in length including a brief intermission), they allow the audience entré into the secret world of theater. Before the intermission we find out “How’d they do that?” for a few key stage “tricks,” such as how the snow falls (a folded curtain with slits, filled with faux snow, is shaken back and forth), how the sets are changed for Act II, and how the bed magically moves across the stage (a “bed boy” maneuvers from underneath). Oh, that clever bed!

But wait. There’s more! Evergreen’s show was filled with many delights: portly mice running through the audience, hefting their bellies this way and that, the ethereal sugar plum fairy and her snowflake entourage, mysterious Uncle Drosselmeyer, a gaggle of children and–of course–the handsome Nutcracker and lovely Clara.

“Those crazy boys,” my little one exclaimed with a chuckle.

We are very fortunate in the Pacific Northwest to have a rich Nutcracker history, as anyone who has attended Pacific Northwest Ballet’s Nutcracker will attest (sets designed by Maurice Sendak, aka Where the Wild Things Are). Whenever I’ve been able to go, PNB’s Nutcracker is an absolute delight.

So I was wondering if Evergreen City Ballet would be able to adapt E.T.A. Hoffman’s story and Tchaikovsky’s musical score, and make the story believable without feeling clipped during the one-hour performance. And they did! The essence of Nutcracker was all there: the wonder, the music, the dancing, and the magic.

After the performance, some of the dancers come out into the lobby in costume. Little ones posed with real ballerinas, but my little one shied away when Uncle Drosselmeyer came near. However she loved touching the tulle skirts and bejeweled leotards.

Although the shortened version is over, there are still shows in Auburn and Renton with tickets available! Visit their website at: http://evergreencityballet.org. Evergreen Ballet’s Nutcracker is the perfect introduction for little sugar plums.

Take the road less traveled, Beth

And a heartfelt thank you to Wendy and James Kirchner (“Aunt Wendy” and “Uncle Jamie”) for sharing Evergreen City Ballet with Baby Bird and with us. The evening was a huge treat for all.

Where the wild things are

May 8, 2012 by Beth Shepherd

I read this morning that Maurice Sendak died. So much of his imagination fueled my own. From my early childhood and reading books like Where the Wild Things Are –over and over and over–to my adult years in Seattle watching Sendak’s creativity come alive with the his brilliantly designed sets for Pacific Northwest Ballet’s Nutcracker.

This morning, after I heard the news, I sat in my garden watching my own “wild things”: Maggie-the-cat helping the fava beans grow by keeping a close eye on them.

…and Baby Bird, exploring the world outside the walls of her home. Hues of green, and pink and yellow, the sounds of birds all around us and everything us alive, filled with color and the possibility of adventures to come.

I hope, as she grows, these sights and sounds will inspire my daughter’s own creative mind and she’ll feel free to fly. And, in time, I hope she’ll also come to find–just like Max in the Wild Things— that a warm meal is always waiting at home.

Mouse kings and sugar plum fairies

December 14, 2009 by Beth Shepherd

Girls dressed in pink tulle, tutus and sparkly ballet shoes flit and twirl across their pretend stage. Spritely young jousters parry and thrust invisible swords to ward off imagined foes. The lobby of the Seattle Opera house is abuzz with Lilliputian ballerina wanna-be’s. Big Papa and I wait until it’s time to head to our seats to watch a performance of the Pacific Northwest Ballet’s ‘Nutcracker.’

PNB’s version of the Nutcracker with sets by Maurice Sendak is truly a sight to behold. For me, attending is an enormously rare treat. Big Papa got us tickets so we could enjoy a date night together and have a few dust-free hours away from the chaos that is currently the Urban Cabin, our home.

The ballet begins and I hold Big Papa’s hand and snuggle my arm next to his. All around me I can hear the whispers of little voices. Tiny heads bob this way and that, necks careen for a better view and bodies squirm in booster seats. Kids are everywhere, in the audience and on the stage.

As the story unfolds, it occurs to me that this is may be the last time I attend this kid-friendly event without a kid. Part of me feels a bit sad. Date nights such as this are dreamy. There’s no finer way to spend an evening, than an intimate pas de deux with Big Papa by my side.

Having a kid will change everything. On the one hand, I will sorely miss my time with Big Papa and Big Papa only. On the other hand, sharing the holidays with a kid could be a lot of fun in a different kind of way.

Each year we’ve been together, we truck off into the Cascade foothills to cut down our Christmas tree. We string up the lights and place ornaments on the tree. One year Big Papa got us the coolest train set which chugged its way round and round the presents piled below the base of our tree. Sometimes though, it feels like something is missing. That something would be a kiddo.

I know that Christmas with kids isn’t all mouse kings and wide-eyed awe. Many times it’s melt downs and tirades. Still, there’s magic to behold when you see a kid’s eyes light up as they experience the wonder of the season. Fantasy catches fire as young imaginations spark with hope. Just like the Christmas Eve for Clara in the Nutcracker, the biggest gift is the gift of a dream.