On Sunday I took the kids to West Chester’s campus to see a children’s concert offered by the Kennett Symphony Orchestra. Admission was free, so we got there about thirty minutes early.

I wasn’t sure how the twins would do, but at nearly four, I want to expose them to more forms of art and music. The promise of dancers in costume seemed reason enough to brave the journey.

Even walking the campus was an eye opening experience, as they marveled over the architecture and sculptures on the grounds. I have to say that I have lived in quite a few places, and West Chester really is a charming town. The campus has details I had not noticed before, slate roofs and stonework that make for a nice Sunday stroll with the family.

Realizing that it might be a challenge for the kids to sit still for the show, I allowed each of them to bring a toy. My daughter packed a small game in her backpack, and my son wanted to carry a transparent, bouncy rubber ball. Sure, why not? He promises to keep it with him.

We are in a phase of “favorite toys”. At this age, everything is over the top, high drama. Whatever toy they latch onto that day is their “favorite toy EVER”, even if it is a paper clip or an empty camera case. The favorites change from day to day, but for some reason continually get lost or left in pockets or stores or toilet bowls.

Before the concert began, we sat there: Grand mom, the kids and I, reading the program aloud, trying to entertain them and avoiding a mutiny. Then it happened.

“Mommy, my ball!!!”

I felt my stomach sink as I looked under the seats, then up over rows ahead of us. My mom and I got up and searched, a valiant effort, I thought, for such a minor object. But it was the focus object of the day so we persisted. Finally, I had to tell him that it was lost. And I could not help myself… I reminded him that he had promised to hold onto it.

He started to tear up… and just then someone four rows down and ten seats over held up the ball and said, “did anyone lose this?” Eureka!

I thanked her profusely, so happy that the concert hadn’t started yet, and gave it back to him. (you see my mistake, don’t you?) We settled in, expecting the show to start any moment, when I heard it again. “Mommy, my ball!!!”

“Are you kidding me?!” I said, out loud.

I wanted to leave it. I told him it was gone. I wasn’t looking for it again, the show was going to start any moment. He started crying. I started looking. Not my proudest parenting moment, but then I saw it… only a few rows ahead at the foot of a Daddy who was busily texting on his iphone while his son nodded at me that he saw it too. I interrupted the text and had him pass me the ball….

Elated, my son balked when I informed him that if he was going to hold onto it any longer he had to put it in his pocket and keep it there. And yes, I was being generous. But he did it, and I only caught it out of pocket once, to which he hurriedly returned it to its enclosure on threat of confiscation.

The concert was really wonderful… beautiful music, informative, and the dancers did an excellent job.

But we would have had better luck not arriving so early. By the end they were both asking if it was over yet, and loudly whispering, “can we go now?” But I know they’ll remember it, and maybe next year we’ll pack drawing pads instead of bouncy balls.

And then I heard them announce that a musical petting zoo was available up front for everyone to enjoy after the show. That is a petting zoo of musical instruments you can touch, not actual animals as I had glanced at the flyer and told my kids earlier that day trying to psyche them up.

“I thought you said REAL animals?!” My daughter shouted, stomping her foot.