In this play about a large cat, as many as three children have played the role of the cat.

What Cat?

Uh, oh….oh, no…or . . . maybe . . .

Cast of characters:

One or two children in a costume of a big black cat. One should be able to make a loud meowing sound.  When the cat purrs, the children alternate purring sounds to create a continuous, undulating purr.

Cleo – must be the oldest child.  About 13.

Nadia—9 years old.

Lucy—11 years old

Ian—12 years old.

David—12 years old.

Miles – must be the youngest of all the children. About 6.

Emma—9 years old.

Rowan—8 years old.

Sam—10 years old.

Set: A horseshoe-shaped stage with sets of steps leading down to the audience.  There is a front porch downstage left. There is a large tree downstage right.  Most of the background set consists of a large field with at least three bushes and two trees standing out. One is a big tree in the woods for the children to hide behind, and the other is the tree downstage right.  This tree is the home of the cat.

When the children pantomime the end of the play, they run in slow motion to suggest distance.  Or they could run into the audience.  Or they could run across the stage, down the steps and back up the same steps.  They should not run in front of the cat.

Time: Summer, in the present; just before dusk and then a slow nightfall.

Scene I

Dusk

[Cleo, 13, and Nadia, 9, enter from behind the porch into the field and walk slowly towards the large tree stage right.]

Nadia: We’ve come pretty far, Cleo.  We’re ’way past the Smith’s backyard.  That’s too far, and it’s getting dark.

Cleo: We just have to cross this field.  It’ll be there, in front of that big oak tree.

[A huge black cat with green eyes, about the size of a small car, suddenly appears in the tree. It’s not clear how the cat got there.] 

Cleo [pointing]: There it is!  Now do you see it?  I told you so.  Look up there, against the biggest branch!

[To herself, almost mystically]  It’s here!

[The cat is slowly and mysteriously licking her paw, as they do, and glancing in the direction of the two girls. She looks harmless but big.]

Nadia:  Oh, oh! Oh, no! I see it, I see it!  Run! [She starts to run away.]

Cleo [grabs Nadia by the arm]: Run?  Did I bring you all the way here to run? I’m telling you, this is BIG!  The biggest thing that’s ever happened to us!  [Lets her go.]

Nadia: That’s why we oughta run.  It’s too big.  No cat is that big.  Oh, no!  Look at it now!  I think it’s watching us.

Cleo: Well, now you’ve seen one that big.  C’mon. It won’t hurt us. It’s just curious.

Nadia: And how to do you know that???

Cleo:  I’ve been coming here for a month and sometimes I see it and sometimes I don’t.  But it’s never hurt me.

Nadia: Yet. [She gets behind Cleo.]

Cleo: Admit that you’re as curious about it as I am.  How did it get so big?  It looks like a regular old black cat but it’s as big as.  . .  help me out, as big as . . . what?  I can’t even see its tail.

[The cat stops licking its paws and proceeds to wash its ears.]

Nadia: It’s watching us.

Cleo: It’s grooming itself.  But, yes, it watches me when I come here.  And it isn’t scary.  Sometimes I think it’s smiling.

Nadia: I don’t know if I like it watching me.  That thing could eat us. What if it thinks we’re super-sized mice . . . or . . . something . . . or . . . bowls of cream or . . .

Cleo [Looks at Nadia]:  Bowls of cream?  You don’t look like a bowl of cream!  More like a mouse.  I wonder what cats eat in the wild?  Anyway, we don’t smell like mice.  That’s important.  Smell.  At least, I don’t smell like a mouse.

Nadia:  This isn’t the wild.  In fact, we’re not all that far from Grandma’s. Which is where I think I’ll go now if you don’t mind. 

Cleo: Well, I do mind because I went to a lot of trouble to bring you here and you’re staying.  I want to see what the cat does with two of us here before I tell the others. [Laughs] You couldn’t find your way back to Grandma’s if you tried.

Nadia: That’s what you think. I left a trail of breadcrumbs.  Just like Hansel.  I know my fairy tales!

Cleo: Oh, good. Then maybe the cat will follow us home!  If the birds haven’t eaten the crumbs.

Nadia:  NO!  [The cat pricks up its ears]  Yikes!  It moved!

Cleo: Shush.  Don’t scare it . . . . It’s just settling in to a comfortable pose.  [Sighs.]  It’s beautiful.

Nadia [Pause]: But cats don’t eat breadcrumbs.  Do they?

Cleo [Scarily]: Mom’s friend Beth had a dog that ate carrots!  So cats might . . .

Nadia:  Oh, stop it. . .

Cleo: . . . Seriously, how could you forget that part of the story?  Everybody knows that birds ate the bread crumbs and Hansel and Gretel never got back home and  . . .

Nadia:  I should’ve thought it through.  But now I’ve seen the big cat and I believe you, so can’t we go home?

Cleo: I want to see what it’s going to do. It might be magical.  It must be magical!

Nadia: It isn’t doing anything.  And it’s as big as Grandma’s car.

Cleo: You’re right!  That’s it!  Grandma’s car!

Nadia: So we can go now.

Cleo [sighing]: Next time I’ll bring Lucy. 

[They leave, Cleo reluctantly looking back at the cat; The cat stands up and watches them walk away, its tail twitching.   Nadia tugs at Cleo to make sure they’re going the right way.]

Nadia:  Isn’t this the way?  C’mon!  Did we cross that stream?  Pay attention, Cleo!!

[Exit behind the field set.]

Scene II

Late afternoon, next day.

[The next afternoon, Cleo, Nadia, Lucy, and Emma are sitting on Lucy’s porch. They talk about the strange cat.]

Lucy: I just don’t believe you.  You’re probably seeing shadows or . . . the wind blowing in the tree.

Cleo:  I’m telling you, it’s as big as my grandma’s car!  Well, nearly. It’s hard to get a good look at it when it’s getting dark. But I know a cat from a shadow!

Emma: I saw the wind blowing in a tree once, and it made the tree look just like a big bear.

Cleo: Oh, please . . .

Nadia:  I’ve seen it, too.  It’s so big but it isn’t scary. You really have to come and see it with us.

Cleo: What??

Nadia:  It looks like a real nice cat, all snuggled up in a tree. It kept licking its paws.  Poor thing. Maybe it can’t get down.   We should call the fire department.

Cleo: Hey!  Look who’s talking!  You were scared to death!

Lucy:  Did it make any noise?   Purr or anything like that?

Cleo: She just won’t admit it. She was terrified.  And, no, I haven’t heard it meow.  So far.

Emma: I’ve never seen a big cat around here and I’ve been across that field a few times.

Cleo: Only I know the way . . . it was my special secret.  And now I’m letting you in on it.

Nadia: And now I’ve seen it, too.

Cleo: Lucy, it took me weeks to convince Nadia to come see it!  Now just listen to her. The expert on finding enormous cats living in trees far, far away . . .

Lucy: Why don’t we go during the day so we can see it better?

Cleo:  You can’t see it during the day.  I’ve tried.  Anyway, lots of cats sleep all day and roam around at night.  Maybe that’s why.

Lucy: I’ll go. I’m not afraid.  Are you coming, Emma?

Emma: [hesitant]:  Well . . .  yeah.  Sure.

Lucy: Why not?

Emma: Why not?

Nadia: Why not?

Cleo:  Right now is the best time. We’ll get there just as it’s turning dusk.

Nadia: But what about Mama?  We’d better tell her.

Cleo: C’mon, it’s summer. She won’t mind if we stay out till it gets dark.  She knows we’re all together. Lucy, I’m telling you: It’s now or never! 

Lucy: Let’s go.  Emma?

Emma: I’m ready.  Nadia?

Nadia: [Sighs.] OK.

[The lights dim on the porch and then slowing rise on the girls, suggesting that a little time has passed.  They cross behind the porch and stealthily cross the field until they can see the big tree. No cat.]

Cleo [whispering]: There’s the tree. There—at the other end of the field.  Let’s go closer.

Nadia: But the cat’s not here. So why should we go closer?

Cleo:  Hum. [Pause] You don’t see anything?  Do you hear anything?

Lucy: It’s big enough to see from here??!!

Cleo: Yep.

Emma: Gosh. [Pause.] Well, I believe you, Cleo. I like this secret.  But . . .

Lucy: So do I.  Now, if this had been Nadia’s idea . . . I’m not so sure I’d believe. . .

Nadia:  Huh.  Takes one to know one.

Lucy: That was a compliment.  I’m just saying that you have a good imagination.

Nadia: Yeah, sure.

Emma: . . . but where is it?

Cleo: Let’s wait. It’s not that dark yet.

[Something rustles in the surrounding trees and bushes.  It seems like it’s coming from three different directions.] 

Nadia: I hear noises!  Something’s in those bushes over there . . .

Cleo:  Ssh!  C’mon, back to the woods.  Head for that tree!  But be quiet!

[The girls quickly and quietly edge themselves off the field and gather behind the smaller tree.]

Cleo: Freeze!

[They huddle behind the tree. As they watch, three young boys—Ian, David, and Miles—come out of the bushes from three different directions. David awkwardly carries a bat, and a catcher’s mitt. Miles carries two softballs.]

David [in a stage whisper]: Found ‘em! Now let’s get out of here.

Lucy: Ha!  It’s only them.  Let’s scare ‘em good!  Make a deep, ugly sound like a mad dog!  One, two, three . . .

Cleo, Nadia, Lucy, Emma:  Roar, growl, snarl, snap! Woof, woof, woof!

[David and Miles drop what they are holding and each boy runs back to where he came from.  The girls burst out laughing. The boys return, rather sheepishly.]

Ian: Very funny. We knew it was you all along.

Nadia: Why’d you run then?  Ha, ha!

Ian:  I went back for my other bat, that’s all.

Miles:  You scared me. Why did you want to scare me?

Lucy: It’s fun to scare people.

Miles: No, it isn’t.

Lucy: You must be a blast at Halloween.

Cleo: We’re sorry, Miles. OK?

Miles: OK. [Sighs] I guess I have to get used to it.  Now I’ve lost my ball again.

David:  I’ll tell you something I bet even you don’t know, Cleo.  There’s a real reason we were scared and it’s sure not because of you. You won’t believe it anyway. But there’s a big cat living near here. And I don’t just mean an ordinary fat cat; I mean a really big cat!  We had to come back to get our softball gear because Miles forgot and left it here. Wasn’t my idea.

Miles: You make me carry everything.  I was tired.

Girls [simultaneously]:  What??!!  A cat?  Did you say a cat?

David: It only comes out at night.  Otherwise, you won’t catch me playing ball in this field!  It’s huge. I mean really, really huge!  With big green eyes that glow in the dark and . . .

Ian:  He means it’s not a regular cat. This one is so big it could eat any one of us!  And you know what? It’s getting dark. That’s when we’ve seen it, most of the time.

Nadia:  We’d better go.

Cleo: Not just yet!  [Sighs]  But I bet it won’t show up with all of us here shouting at the top of our lungs.

David: You mean you want to see it?  You’re not scared of it?

Cleo:  I have seen it. Tons of times.

Miles [hurt]:  Why didn’t you tell me?  I thought you didn’t keep secrets from me.

Cleo [Gently]:  I wanted to make sure it was real.  And, honestly, I didn’t think any of you would believe me.

Miles:  I would have believed you.

Cleo: I know, Miles.  But after Nadia made fun of me for about three weeks . . .

Nadia: I did not!

[The cat appears but no one notices it until . . .]

Cat: Meow!

All:  Huh??

Ian:  There it is!!! Run!  [He pantomimes running across the field.]

Lucy: Wait!  I wanna see.  You guys have seen it but not me. That’s not fair! [Pause.] Uh, oh.  That’s . . . BIG.  [She pantomimes running after Ian.]

Nadia:  Hey, it’s moving! Oh, no!  Let’s go! [Nadia walks fast in any opposite direction, away from the rest of the children, but keeps her eye on the cat.]

Cleo: Nadia!  This way!

Lucy [Shouting over her shoulder]: Oh, my gosh!  I don’t believe it! Oh, my gosh! Look at that thing!

[Meanwhile, the cat starts climbing out of the tree, somewhat clumsily.  Everybody panics.]

Ian: [Slows down, turns around and runs back to Cleo. Shouts, gesturing to the girls to follow him]: Come on! Don’t scatter.  Run into the woods to that big tree.  It might get one of us in the field!

David [Edging backwards with his eyes on the cat]:  Stay together! That way we have a chance.  I’ve got my eye on it. 

Cleo: Miles, you stay close to me!  [Miles doesn’t move.]

Cat: Meow.

Ian: C’mon!  Hurry up!  Get to that tree in the middle of the field.  We can hide and see what it’s doing from up there.

Lucy: What big tree? Oh! I don’t know how to get back. Wait for me!

David:  It’s stopped moving. It’s just looking at us.  [He stops.]

Ian: But we don’t know what it’s going to do next.

Cleo: Miles, come on! Don’t just stand there. Come on!  Cats can run fast, you know. [To the others]: They can climb trees too, you know!

Miles [Stands rooted to the spot.  He doesn’t run]:  It’s not going to hurt us. 

Cleo [shouts]:  Nadia, stay with the others. I have to get Miles!

Nadia: No!  Cleo!

Cat: Meow!

David [hurries past Cleo toward Nadia and grabs her by the arm]: We have to stay together. 

Nadia: Cleo!

Miles [turns his back on the cat and shouts]:  I’m telling you, it’s not going to hurt us. It looks sad that we’re all running away. [Turns back towards the cat.]  I think . . . I think . . . It wants to play with us.

Cat: Meow. Meow. Meow.  [It stretches with a big cat stretch.]

Miles: It’s only relaxing.

Ian [yells back]: Miles, they play with their prey! Before they eat them! Oh, my god. What are we gonna do?  We have to save Miles!

[Spotlight on a tree, backstage right. By now, everyone except Cleo –stage left—and Miles—center stage—have huddled together behind a tree, backstage left. Or center stage?]

Nadia [David and Ian are holding her back]: And Cleo!

Ian:  Look! It’s moving again!  It’s out of the tree; it’s at the end of the field.  The cat is on the field!!

[Miles starts to approach the cat, slowly]

Nadia:  What is he doing? 

David:  Miles! Get back here!

Ian: And now Cleo is heading toward the cat!

David:  She’s after Miles.  He’s still in the middle of the field! 

Ian: I think Cleo’s got him!  Whew! [Slight pause.]  No!  He’s running away from her!  What’s he doing?! 

Lucy:  I don’t believe this!  He must want that ball he left.  [Shouts]  Miles!  The stupid ball doesn’t matter!  We’ll buy you another one!  Promise! 

Nadia:  Cleo!  Get him!

[Light on Cleo and Miles.  Miles picks up his ball. Cleo stops moving toward him and stands there, just looking at the cat.]

Lucy: Miles, you’ve got your ball!  Get yourself back here!  Now what’s he doing?

Ian:  He’s rolling the ball towards that cat!  He’s gonna be killed!

[The cat smiles and bats it back with its paw.  Then Miles rolls it again.  Same thing. This happens a third time.]

Cat: Purr.

David:  The cat’s toying with him!  It’s luring him! We need a plan and fast.

Lucy: You all join hands and rush the cat. I’ll throw that other ball and distract the cat while somebody grabs Miles.  C’mon! Make yourselves look big and maybe it will run away.

Ian: Good idea.  Everybody grab hands and hold them high. Let’s go.  And roar!

[They rush toward the cat while Lucy grabs the other baseball and throws it behind the cat.  The cat turns and pounces on it, picks it up with its mouth, then sets it down and bats it back to Lucy, who seems frozen. She watches, fascinated, and then throws the ball back to the cat. The cat joyously bats it back to her, meowing with pleasure. Lucy tosses the ball to Ian, who throws it to the cat. The cat jumps up, twirls in a circle of cat happiness, then bats it back to Ian.  Miles tosses the ball again, and the cat hesitates, smiles, then bats it to Cleo. Miles laughs and takes the ball from Cleo.]

Cat: Meow!

Cleo: Could Miles be right?

Miles: She likes baseball.  [He smiles.]  Her name is Yogi Berra.  

Here is a two-act play about making poetry for everyone at a celebration. Act II is at Nonny’s Christmas party when we put this play in action to see if Nonny's new soup really works.

Soup, Soup

Cast of characters: [endless possibilities, depending on your party!]

Narrator/Larry 
Cleo . . . age 8
Nonny (aka Lin) . . . age Grandmother
Nadia . . . age 6, soon to be 7

Mark, Nonny’s husband, known as GrandMark

Rebecca and Edouard, friends

Jonny and Sage, parents of Cleo and Nadia

Julian and Carolyn, parents of Sarah and Maya

David and Ellen, parents of Julian and Carolyn
Extras . . . as many as you want

Props:

One large cauldron

A basket full of poems, if you wish, for your guests/readers

ACT I

Narrator: One day, Nonny was cooking up some soup. But for some reason, she was simmering it in a huge pot, big as a cauldron--the kind of cauldron you'd find in a fairy tale.

[Enter Cleo.]

Cleo: Nonny is making soup. What kind of soup can it be? Hey, Nonny, Nonny . . . what you got cooking? I’m a coming and I’m a looking! Wow, I made a rhyme.

Narrator: Cleo stood on tiptoe and could just see into the pot.

Cleo: Hum. Problem . . . I know what to do. I’ll stand on this footstool. Where did this footstool come from, anyway? We never had a footstool here before. Hum . . . mighty handy that it’s here now.

Narrator: And so she peered into the pot.

Cleo: Why, this is odd soup. There’s not a single dumpling or piece of chicken . . . not a vegetable in sight, not even a carrot! Let me see . . . Yeow!

Narrator: Those of you who have heard other stories about Cleo will recognize a pattern here. What do you think happened? Yep. She fell right smack into the pot. And yes, it was large enough to hold an eight-year-old girl.

Cleo: Yikes! Hum . . . This soup should be hot but instead it feels . . . like a warm bath. Hum . . . it’s really rather nice. . . . Ahem.

Narrator: “Ahem” came out of her mouth after she accidentally swallowed some of the broth. It sounded, well . . . odd.

Cleo: Ahem. It appears that I have been mistaken in my initial assumption. This is no more a pot of chicken soup than I am myself a chicken. Just as it is plain to see that I am an eight-year-old girl, I hereby state for all and sundry to note that that this is no ordinary soup but indeed, it is a pot of word soup. A soup with a slight nineteenth century flavor. The chef must be somewhat literary.

Narrator: Cleo felt a strong urge to recite a poem.

Cleo: I am simply beyond myself with inspiration of a garden variety. I would hasten outdoors but I cannot get out of this cauldron.

Narrator: She pulled herself up to her full height in the cauldron and began.

Cleo: Oh! Sunflower!

How large thy face appears

To these nearly nine-year-old eyes!

How coversome and protective

When the beamish sun

Pours forth her hot July rays

Especially last summer—-today is not so warm.

I like you, Sunflower.

[Enter Nonny, who had been hiding behind a chair all this time.]

Nonny: [clapping] Lovely, Cleo! And best of all, my recipe worked!

Cleo: Top of the morning to you, Grandmother Dearest. And what, may I ask, is the nature of the concoction you’ve brewed up this time?

Nonny: I’ve finally perfected-- I think and I hope-- my word soup. Shall we test it on Nadia? Here she comes. Can you get her to fall in too? Here, let me lift you out. Take this towel and dry off quickly so Nadia won’t suspect anything. By the way, how does it taste?

Cleo: It presents an intense violet colour, plums, black cherries, licorice, and dried herbs aroma in the nose. Sweet, round and ample in the mouth with a lingering finish.

With legs of dried cod.

Nonny: Legs of dried cod. Hum. Well, it sounds like I’m not quite there. Quick. Here comes Nadia.  Let’s try it out on her.

[Lifts Cleo out of the cauldron.]

Narrator: Quite unsuspecting, Nadia entered through the back door.

Nadia: Yoo hoo, Nonny! Anybody home?

Cleo [Speaking as herself again]: Nadia! Look at the grape vine growing out the soup Nonny is cooking! Hum . . . I sound like myself again.

Nadia: You always sound like yourself. What are you talking about?

Cleo: Stand up on this footstool and look!

Nadia: Ok, ok!

Narrator: And so Nadia did. And Cleo pushed her right into the soup.

Nadia: What!!!  Help!

Cleo: Now take a sip.

Nonny: Wait! Let’s try something different.

[Sprinkles something into the soup.]

Nadia [complaining, whiny]: Nonny, look what Cleo did to me! [Takes a sip].

Gulp. . . . I have fallen in a cauldron. But I’m not afraid.

Pulling herself up to her full height.

I may be a young girl but I know life is hard

For those not so lucky as I am. I'm aware.

I’ve got sprite, I’ve got chutzpah, I got spunk, I got guts.

With some luck, I will help them. Need me? I'll be there.

Narrator, Nonny, Cleo: [clapping] Well done, Nadia!

[Nadia takes a bow.]

Cleo: That was a beautiful poem, Nadia. And such big words!

Nonny: It worked! I sprinkled in heroic words and she spoke a heroic poem!

Nadia: Anybody need rescuing?

Nonny: Here. Let me lift you out. I’m perfecting my word soup. I sprinkle in words and whoever stands in the cauldron or better yet, swallows some of the soup, finds they can’t resist reciting poetry in the language of the words! It’s my best invention yet.

Cleo: Ohhh. Let’s try it on the Narrator.

Nadia: Yes! We’ll put in some music words for him. OK, Larry?

[Our narrator’s name is Larry and he’s a pianist when he isn’t narrating.]

Narrator: Well, Ok. Why not?

Nonny: Girls, go find some music words for him. Meanwhile, we’ll try to fit him into the cauldron. Sorry, Narrator, it is the largest cauldron I could find.

Narrator: Well, I hardly need much prompting about words. I am a narrator after all. But let’s see what they come up with. Oh, yes, speaking of narrating, back to my narrator’s role. [Clears his throat.] So Cleo and Nadia scoured Nonny’s books for words about music. Luckily, Nonny has a lot of books. The Narrator, well, that’s me so I might as well just say “I.” I stepped into the pot and waited. And waited. And waited. I must say that I felt heroic and rather nineteenth century-ish at the same time. I barely suppressed a strange prompting to speak along the lines of David Copperfield when Cleo and Nadia suddenly appeared with a handful of music words.

Cleo and Nadia: Here you go. Into the pot.

[They throw in the words.]

Narrator: Oh, my.

[Standing up to his full height.]

The Rite of Spring does not elicit pity.

Stravinsky leaves no room for our lament.

She dances and she dies and it’s expected.

And so, how starkly modern can you get.

Nonny: Oh, my goodness. Modernism in a nutshell.

Cleo and Nadia [look at each other, then look at the Narrator]: We don’t get it.

Narrator: That’s all right, my dears; I’m not sure I do either.

Cleo: I have a great idea! Let’s have a party and invite everyone we know and let them all stand in the pot and recite poems about what they love!

Nadia: Yes, let’s do. When is the next cele . . . celebration?

Cleo: Well, of course it’s Nonny’s Christmas party!  We’ll do it then. And you learned some big words when you were in the soup. Celebration is a big word.

Cleo and Nadia: Yay! Celebration!

End of Act I.

Act II

[At the Christmas party.  Lots of laughing and general party noise.]

Narrator (clinking on a glass):  Ahem.  Ahem, may I have everyone’s attention please!

We have a party game cooked up, ha ha, for you.  Lin, known to some of you here as Nonny, has made a special and I must say, a delicious soup for your delectation. 

[Cleo and Nadia push the cauldron into the middle of the room. Then everyone hushes and stares at the cauldron.]

Everyone:  Ooh!! Aah! 

[They all take seats around the cauldron.]

Narrator:  Whoever wants to can get into the cauldron, swallow a sip of Nonny’s word soup brew, and instantly become a poet—a good poet, a bad poet, an incomprehensible poet or a simple poet.  But a poet nonetheless.  Nonny puts in a few words for inspiration but really, we can all add what words we want.   And, to assure you that this contraption, excuse me, this magical device is safe, I tried it myself just this afternoon and I think I might just try it again.  My attempts at poetry will show you how this magical brew works.

Ahem.  Here I go. Who knows what awaits.

[The narrator, Larry, awkwardly gets into the cauldron, sweeps the room with a dramatic gesture, and slowly and elaborately takes a sip.]

I wonder what words Nonny has put in for me this time.

Nonny: A surprise.

Narrator/Larry: [raising himself to his full height]:

What would we do without a smarty

Who could put together such a party

That will have us all spouting rhymes!

A better thing to do with one’s time

I cannot imagine. So here’s to Lin

and Mark, Cleo, Nadia and gin

Which I suspect is in this pot!

Raise your glasses, all ye of good cheer

We’re glad you’re here and those who are not

Are in our thoughts, all warm and dear.

[Steps out.]

Narrator/Larry: My goodness, I’ve become sentimental. 

Cleo: That’s not modernism.

Narrator: You are so right, my dear.

David: Modernism!  Let me in that pot and I’ll spout modernism.

[Jumps in and takes a gulp.]

Is it Duchamp or Picasso? We argue endlessly.

Who was the best of last century?

A urinal or a cube, either will do it.

Give me a canvas and I’ll add to it.

A snood or a bluet; it’s all in what you see

There’s even room for incomprehensibility . . .

Rebecca: David, stop!  I’ll bring it back down to earth

[Jumps in.]

There was a tall fellow from France

Who could neither sing nor could dance.

Yet he beat all at chess,

And they say he’s the best.

Now he has ants in his pants.

Cleo:  Huh?!!!  Ants in his pants!!! 

Rebecca [climbing out]: It rhymes.  Besides, Larry said it could be bad poetry.  Why not?

Who’s next?  Julian!

Julian: No, no, not me!

David:  Come on. Get in. [He pushes Julian in. Julian, nervous, takes a gulp.]

Carolyn: I’ll get in with you.  [She does, with their two girls, Sarah and Maya]

Julian: [Suddenly no longer nervous.] When I saw Carolyn coming down to aisle to marry me,

I thought, I have never seen anyone so beautiful.

But then we had Sarah. And now we have Maya.

I can’t find words to say about

These miracles that have happened to me.  [Sobs]

[Embraces his family and steps out.]

Everyone:  Sob!  Sob! 

Julian:  Ok, I did it!  Who’s next???

Nonny:  Mark. I think you should try it.

Mark: [Climbs in, looks around.] Hum.  Let’s see. What do I do here?  I guess I start by taking a sip.

[Mark climbs in and stands upright. While Mark isn’t paying attention, Nonny quickly shows the audience a card with the word DOG on it, then the word in the cauldron.]

Mark: I know. I’ve got a poem.   Ahem.

I think that I shall never see

A poem as lovely as a dog . . .

Dog!!!

[Turns to Nonny]  What?!  That’s not how it goes!!!

Nonny:  Ha, ha!

Cleo and Nadia:  C’mon, GrandMark. Keep at it!

Mark:  And yet . . .  and yet . . . .

[Raises himself to his full height.]

A puppy whose hunger and thirst

Tugs at me, I must provide

Which indeed I do, in fact, I durst

Not, when the wise wide-eyed

Creature hunts me down.  Then

Begs me all day for a walk

That’s when we stroll and talk and talk

About what smells good and what

Smells heavenly.  Oh, I can’t wait

‘Till we get our new puppy!!!

[Gets out of the cauldron and hugs Nonny]

Everyone:  A puppy! Yay, a new puppy!

Ellen: I have a poem. Does it have to be one we’ve written ourselves?

Narrator: Not at all.

Ellen [steps into the cauldron]:  OK, here goes. It’s by William Butler Yeats with a slight alteration by me. [Takes a sip.]  Ahem.

“Wine comes in at the mouth 

And love comes in at the eye; 

That’s all we shall know for truth 

Before we grow old and die. 

I lift the glass to my mouth, 

I look at David, and I sigh.”

[Blows a kiss to her husband David.]

David:  Oh, oh.  Ellen!  Gee . . .

[He comes to help her out of the cauldron and they embrace.]

Everyone:  Awww . . . .

Jonny: Ellen!  You’re inspired me!   You love to garden and so do I.  It’s called “The Children’s Garden.”

[Hops into the cauldron in one leap.  Everyone claps.]

The kids go outside during recess,

Use the watering can that rests

near the rain barrel

or the hose and faucet.

The lettuces emerge in purples

and greens, a nice set of hues

against the good, brown earth.

Who's next?!

Photos of Toy Theaters for classrooms

Working on toy theaters from cardboard boxes and tissue paper.

Finished!

Toy Theater with a collage effect

Scenery can be elaborate 

Close up

One that shows scale, wings, and thrust stage 

See the sticks (bamboo skewers) under the puppet?  Kids manipulate the sticks to make the puppets move.
Skewers can also be added to the sides and manipulated from behind the wings.

Simplicity

Pawprints from playing in the snow

 

 

Every inch of his happiness

An inch yanked from cruelty.

Dog rescued from a well.