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Festive trip to the West End gives my son the chance to prove he is the king of the jungle

Last week we took the boy to Big Town for his first live music experience: a performance by The Lion King in the West End. It was a gift from his uncle Darragh and his aunt Emilie, who clearly loved him more than any of my uncles or aunts had ever loved me. I haven’t had any trips to see The Lion King When I was small. The best we could handle were pantos and cribs – and most of them had our own siblings, which instead strips them of their mystique.

I had my own time in the spotlight, of course, and few in the 1997 class at Nazareth House Primary School will ever forget my star turn as Ruben, Joseph’s inexplicably French brother in The incredible Technicolor Dream coat, which I conducted fully dressed as Eric Cantona. Nor my role in our elementary school nursery, in which I played an unlikely emcee named Pablo the Mexican reindeer. Perhaps it is my former mastery of the stage that causes me to question the allure of taking a toddler to a two hour theatrical extravaganza. Or maybe it’s the idea of ​​making a three-year-old sit still without speaking, screaming, crying, or getting wet for their entire duration.

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