Every time a commercial comes on for Wicked here in Chicago, my mother sighs quietly and makes mention of the fact that she'd really like to see it. My mom doesn't pine for very many things, so it always takes me by surprise. A few years ago, my father and brother and I pooled our resources and bought her a Bose radio, the only other thing I can remember her wanting this badly.
Two months ago, I sat down at my computer and scoured the internet for Christmas gift ideas for my mother, and I came up empty-handed. I gave up and went to go watch House Hunters or What Not to Wear or some other quality television program with my mother, when (lo and behold!) an advertisement for Wicked popped on to the screen. The light bulb went off, the idea was hatched, yada yada.
So on Christmas morning, I got to watch my mother's eyes light up whilst she opened a tiny little Godiva box. Inside, I had stashed an I.O.U. of sorts for two tickets to see Wicked on the night of her choosing. I thought she and my dad could go share a romantic evening out and about.
Instead, she said she really wanted to share the experience with moi. Hence, I regret to inform you, dear internet, that I will not be sharing snow goon pictures (or sock monkey pictures) tonight. My sincerest apologies, but I will be way too busy pretending to be cultured enough to go watch a musical with my mother in downtown Chicago. (Wish me luck!)