Renaissance Men

So, I have a goal in raising these boys. I want to be very purposeful in the life experiences we expose them to. I want them to be boys (and then men) who are perfectly comfortable and sincerely appreciative of various opportunities. I want them to be boys who are into sports, but also like music. I want them to know how to start campfires and pitch tents, but also how to act at a play or at the symphony. Men who are comfortable scarfing down wings at trivia night, but who also know how to mannerly consume their chicken salad sandwiches at a tea room if necessary.

One day this past spring, I got the chance to "Commence Renaissance Man Training." We took the boys to see the musical, The Lion King in Atlanta.


I had long been telling Mitch that I wanted them to see it the next time it came to Atlanta since it doesn't come every year. This year, I jumped at the chance. I justified the expense by saying it was my birthday present.

For months, I talked this up to them. Explaining plays. Watching the movie so they would "get" the story. My good friend John Moore, got wind of this plan and let us have his cd from the play. That was the best thing since they practically memorized every song. This also helped them understand what was going on.

This became quite hysterical as they would often just erupt into song while they played. Often they (particularly John Mark), at the top of their lungs, would shout out the opening line to "Circle of Life." "NANTS IN GON YA MA, BAAAAAAAA GITHI BAAA BA!!"

When the BIG DAY arrived, the ATL was doing their massive re-paving of I75 on the weekends, so we opted to drive to a Marta station and take a train into downtown.

This was a huge thrill since they had never experienced a train ride yet. On the return ride, the ride was made even better because the train was very crowded and we stood next to a REAL LIVE SOLDIER. The boys were in awe. He was nice and talked to them the whole time. Too cool.

The play was of course, amazing. The experience for the boys was everything I hoped it would be. Their delight. Their behavior. Their memories of it. Perfect.

Afterward, we had a gift certificate to one of our favorite ATL restaurants, Houston's. Mitch and I had been thinking it would be fun to use that and go to Houston's after the play. Great idea. So we go. We put our name on the hour long waiting list. After ten minutes we get called in. We are elated (and very thankful) to not have to wait so long. The minute, and I mean the minute, we walk in the door (because we had been waiting outside), I start to freak out a little. As my eyes adjust to the ambiant dimness, and focus on the white linen tablecloths, the candle lit table centerpieces and all the glasses and real porcelain (read "breakable") plates I realize what we have done.

We have brought the boys (one of whom is cell phone torcher Daniel) to a white-linen-wine-list-longer-than-the-menu-whisper-restaurant. There are no styrofoam cups with lids here. No kids menu. No chicken finger baskets. No placemats to color on. No loudly playing music to drown out kid noises.

Every other time we had gone to Houston's it was, obviously, without children. It didn't dawn on me until we were being seated that it could be a disaster.

But it wasn't. It was perfect. They were perfect. Perfect little gentlemen with their linen napkins on their laps, drinking from their crystal clear stemmed glasses. Turbo Renaissance Training.

We drove back with three sleepy dinner and dessert filled boys dreaming of train rides and Simba and Mufasa.

It was a perfect family day.

* perfect except for the fact that I forgot the camera. Dumb mommy. So I have no pictures of this amazing day. That explains the pictures.