Max's First Taste of Fame.

I am just back from Vegas. Where I took my 12 year old son - let's face it - out of desperation. Let you who have never done anything out of desperation be the first to judge. It was his spring break, I had promised travel and adventure - and at the eleventh hour, all I could afford was Vegas, baby. It was kind of like when I got Max a limo for his 13th birthday - it would never be that cool again to have a limo with all of your friends piled in,enough snacks and soft drinks to put a professional wrestler into a coma, unlimited rides at the Santa Monica Pier, and midnight skateboarding at a private ramp in Venice. I hung out with the driver all night, cracking jokes, sharing stories with a big black man that I had just met. We had a good time. The boys had a good time. At 13 - a limo is memorable. By 15 (in LA), it's passe. So that was my thought about Vegas.

For a 12 (going on 13) year old boy - Vegas is world class glamour! Big lights, big games, big shows,big pool - the whole nine yards. By the time he's 14, this kid will look at Vegas the way I do, I suspect. Tragic. Old people in track suits from frozen places smoking indoors and throwing their money away on a dream. But when you're 12!!!! The Flamingo is pure fun! Big pool with REAL flamingos, a water slide, lots of kids to play with - pizza by the pool! And my super cool friend hooked us up with tickets to the Blue Man Group! Oh yea. Mom looks like a rock star. August totally loved the show - completely got all of the jokes and subtleties, and left talking about it - making great points. My BFF, Mark, went with and took the kid on his first ever REAL roller-coaster - thank you very much!

If you could have seen Mark and I walking through the various casinos and hotels, explaining them to August, you would have laughed REAL HARD. Mark is looking at all the cute boys, commenting under his breath to me - I'm laughing at him, we're all laughing at each other - basically - a LOT of laughing. And as we were explaining all that we could to the little brain that is August Blue, the subject of Cirque du Soleil came up.

"That sounds so cool, Mom. Why haven't you ever taken me to that?" the brain asked me.
"I have! I'm sure of it! Maybe you were too young to remember, though..." I answered.
And that conversation made me remember the very moment Max discovered the feeling of fame.

When Max was 4 or 5, I took him to see Cirque du Soleil with a few friends. Eric Voetberg, and his brother, Patrick, were there for sure. But our seats were such that we were slightly split up.As I remember it, there were 2 seats in the front row (center) and another 2 or 3 right in back of those in the fourth row. Max was never a very shy little boy, so when given the choice, he opted to sit next to Eric in the front row, Patrick and I sat behind them in the fourth.
This was only the second time I had been to Cirque du Soleil - the first time being with Peter in NYC - and I thought it was absolute magic! I was over THE MOON to take Max at his age. I remember distinctly the overwhelming feeling of anticipation and excitement about the whole event. My heart felt like it was going to burst right out of my body I was so happy and excited about taking Max to this. And I do believe I have the Voetberg brothers to thank for it. I believe THEY scored these great seats, and the whole event was that much more sated with happiness because of their presence. Max loved them both. Theses guys were the best.

The show started. I felt like I was 6. I tore my eyes from the stage to Max's face again and again. When he laughed, I laughed. When he held his breath, I held mine. If there was a scary moment, Max grabbed Eric's arm and felt safe. So I felt safe.
I tried to watch Max's face as the little Asian girls twisted their bodies into crab-like sea creatures. Some of them were no older than he was. I watched his face as a man stacked chairs upon chairs upon tables upon tea trays...until the stack was 25 feet high - all the while he was climbing these teetering things to music with comedic glances down to the audience - AMAZING! If he had fallen, he would have fallen right on top of Max and Eric!

And then the clown came out again. The clown that did not speak. International comedy. Some things cross all boundaries of language. And the clown chose Max.
He tried to coax him onto the stage.
Max shook his head "no!"
The clown did not give up.
Max shook his head "no!" again. He didn't want to go up there. He was NOT ready to be on stage. Not yet.
But the clown did not take no for an answer, and pretty soon, Max was being pulled up on stage (fighting it all the way)by the clown - and something TERRIBLE happened.

As Max was pulled UP, his pants were pulled DOWN. And before anyone knew it, or could do anything about it, Max was full on mooning the entire audience.

HUGE laughter ensued - GREAT applause! The clown felt like a success - for a moment.
Then, Max started to cry. For real. And the clown could not appease him. It was terrible.
I wanted to jump on stage and punch that clown in the nose. Kind of.
The audience was with Max - entirely! A great big "Awwwww!!!!" came from them in sympathy - but that just made him feel worse.
So, the clown handed Max over to Eric, made gestures of "I'm sorry", Max shook his little blonde head at the clown - very angry - and after the entire audience booed the clown on Max's behalf, the show went on.

Max curled himself up in Eric's arms for the rest of the first act, trying to disappear. Eric shot a look back to me in reassurance. What a guy! What a great guy.
Even so, as soon as intermission came, I rushed to Max to hug him tight and make sure he was ok.
"I hate that stupid clown, Mom!" he told me right away.
"I know. I know - but you were great! You handled it really well!"
"Everyone saw my butt!" he wailed.
"Oh, honey! Not everyone! Anyway...it's a cute butt."
Max buried his face in my sweater. "I want to go!" he said into it.
"You don't want some ice cream?" I pleaded.
"I want to go home!" he wailed into my sweater.

I looked at Eric and Patrick, shaking my head. Good grief. My pure joy and excitement about sharing this with my kid had turned into a nightmare. They were both very understanding.

I walked Max out towards the entrance of the tent, thinking we might be heading home.
But then, something interesting happened. Before we got even 5 feet down the aisle, people started stopping us. Complimenting Max.
"Oh my gosh! You were so great!" they said.
"You were the best part of the show so far!"
"That clown was a bully! You did GREAT!"
"You were so brave!"
A couple of people even asked if they could take a photo with him. We were assaulted!

And I saw Max's face turn from humiliated to happy.
Before we even got to the concessions, Max had been made to feel like a superstar.

"Wow. People really liked you!" I said to Max. "Do you still want to go home?"
Max looked at me with this really brave face and said, "No. I think I'll stick it out. Can I still have ice cream?"

Of course he could still have ice cream. The kid had his pants pulled down in front of hundreds of people and come out a rock star. I wished I could hand him a trophy there and then.

Ice cream indeed.
Ice cream INDEED.