I took Miguel to see A Christmas Carol at the Guthrie Theater yesterday. Miguel is a boy of many, many questions. He takes nothing at face value and will ask a series of questions that only concludes when one of his parents says, in perhaps a less than patient tone, "Because that is just the way it is!" A parent who shall remain nameless actually ended one such interrogation by saying, "Because the kitten's body would ROT!" but most Q & A sessions don't end in such graphic detail. So, I took the little tyke to the theater to see a three hour play in which there is time travel and ghosts and all sorts of lessons about values, not to mention very fascinating technical effects related to the production. I knew there would be questions. I knew there would be many questions. We worked out a little system before it started. I told Miguel that if he had an important question he could tap me on the shoulder and then whisper the question quietly into my ear. He understood. I know that he understood because the minute the play started I felt a gentle tapping on my shoulder and the questions began. The boy nearly poked a hole in my shoulder with all the tapping and questions. Is that fog coming out onto the stage? Is it supposed to be snow? How do they get it to do that? Who is that? And that? Why is that man covered in chains? How did he come out of the floor and then go back down? Why did he choose money over love? How do they get that orange light to glow in the floor of the stage? How did the ghost of Christmas present come down from the ceiling? Why is Scrooge sad? Is that Scrooge when he was younger? Is that the ghost of Christmas yet to come? Is it over? Yes, he asked all of these questions (and probably some I can't remember) but he did abide by our system and that was all that I could ask of him. As we left the theater, his smile was enormous and he asked, "Mama, can we go see it again? I wouldn't need to ask so many questions next time!" I would love to see it again and would gladly take him with me.