Last night�s trip to the middle school production of Annie was more enjoyable than expected. One of my nieces was playing Miss Hannigan, orphanage boss and hater of little girls. She seemed to particularly enjoy telling the orphans, one of which was played by her little sister, to �Shut up!� She was very nervous about her singing, but she shouldn�t have been. She was marvelous and she totally stole the show, which is saying something, since the golden retriever playing Sandy was incredibly cute. The other niece played July, the orphan who�s always picking fights. She was great too. Most of the unintentionally funny parts of the evening were instigated by the handful of brave boys who ventured to join the cast. It was particularly hilarious to watch the sixth grader, whose voice hasn�t yet changed, play Daddy Warbucks bellowing about his work obligations with all the expression of a stone (but excellent diction).

AJ was transfixed by the scene. The lights seemed to be responsible for much of his excitement. He had been worried about the noise when everyone clapped, but after the first round of applause he turned to me and said, �You see? I told you it wasn�t so bad!� He loved the singing and dancing, but was quickly bored during the talky bits, proclaiming a little too loudly, �I just want to get out of here!� His restlessness prevented us from seeing the second act, but I think that was fine with everybody concerned.

The husband is at a football game with his brothers today. My sister-in-law G. came over for a while to play with AJ before she leaves for eastern Europe. She�s volunteering at an orphanage in Uzbekistan. She went last year and the pictures she brought back were absolutely heartbreaking. All the children�s heads are shaved to prevent the communication of lice. Many are missing hands, feet or whole limbs, often thanks to the same explosives that killed their parents. G. told AJ she was going on a trip so she wanted to come over to see him before she left. He asked where she was going and she said, �far away to play with children who don�t have mommies and daddies.� AJ got a look on his face that said clearly that he had never realized such a state was a possibility. �But I have a mommy and a daddy,� he said. �Yes, but some children don�t,� I explained, and then added, �like Annie.� G. and I exchanged glances, fully aware that it is absolutely nothing like Annie. �Oh,� mused AJ, and ran off to find his favorite truck.

Whenever AJ asks questions that are difficult to answer, I am inevitably relieved to find that he doesn�t feel the need to internalize the weight of the world�s problems. He isn�t ready for it. But somehow each time he asks such a question, I feel a little sadder, as if I need to shoulder a little more of the burden, if only to protect AJ from it a little longer.

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