Nativity is one of those little things which is a real milestone of childhood Christmases. I remember being in them as a child, and planning them as a teacher, and it has always been a major Christmas highlight for me. There is something about small children proudly performing their parts, acting out the Christmas story and singing all those well known festive songs that just never fails to get me in the mood for Christmas (and to bring a big lump to my throat with the sheer cuteness of it all.)
There were times we worried he might end up being a scene stealer, as he seemed determined to elaborate on his lines and make his part a bit bigger. He also at one point insisted that he had to say "I bring gold. I bring frankincense. I bring myrrh." But we managed to delicately point out that there were two other kings who would probably like to say their own lines.
So after a restless night for me - in which I worried about wardrobe malfunctions, getting a good seat, my camera settings and other such important things - nativity day dawned. We dressed up our excited little king, left him on a rug at preschool with two other kind of nervous looking kings, and took our seats ready to watch. Sitting in the church my expectations couldn't have been higher, I was so excited to see our first nativity as parents and to see our little man shine. And I could not have been prouder.
I loved seeing him walk in with all his friends, nervously looking at all the waiting faces and hundred cameras, until he saw us and smiled the biggest beaming smile. I loved that he barely took his eyes off me the whole time, and kept doing teeny waves and little nose scrunching smiles my way. I loved that he executed his words in the right place, loudly and clearly enough for the church full of people to hear. I loved seeing him sing and dance to all the songs he'd practised so much for us, even when he'd been stuck at home ill. It was all over in a flash, but it was pure magic from start to finish.