The Lovely Ms. K convinced me that a Wiggles concert is a parental-rite-of-passage, and so she and little Miss G and Zaza and I rocked with Anthony, Jeff, Murray and Sam at the Nokia Theater.
Meanwhile, that arch, sixteen year-old in my head rolled her eyes, snorted, rated my Target-bought outfit, and smirked at my station wagon.
While I find them charmingly square, Zaza and I are not what you would call Wiggles fans. I mean, I appreciate the lo-fi-ness of the TV show (even after Disney got to them), their music and muggery provide a quaint backdrop on a rainy afternoon, and it's very nice to have some guys out there entertaining kids. And yes, we each have a favorite Wiggle (I like ex-Wiggle Greg's voice, she likes waking up Jeff). And yes, yes, yes their accents certainly appeal to my 9th grade self, the one who watched "The Man From Snowy River" and "The Year of Living Dangerously" over and over and over.
But Ander and Zaza never wanted the CDs or videos or toys, not even the admittedly cool red plush guitar. So I was completely out of the loop when it came to Wiggles concert etiquette: I did not know about waving 'Wiggle Sticks' (???) during "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star" or that we should have brought roses for Dorothy or a big cardboard bone for Wags.
I suspect that there's a whole Wiggles counter-culture out there: paunchy dads and peppy ex-cheerleader moms following them around the world in big red cars, naming their children Dorothy and Feathersword, sharing big bowls of yummy yummy fruit salad as they sit around the billabong. And I can sooo imagine the naughty fan-fiction involving pretty-eyed Anthony and/or the Cap'n. (I will refrain from researching these hunches.)
As Ms. K whispered in my ear, in terms of audience participation and prop usage, a Wiggles concert is "like 'the Rocky Horror Picture Show' for toddlers."
Also, there were ballerinas. (Zaza was besotted.)
The ballerinas wore longish tutus and high-necked leotards, and Miss G was convinced that the ballerina in yellow was actually Sam, the new Yellow Wiggle ("He's so so silly!"). All of the dancers' costumes had a 1950s/60s movie musical vibe in that they were sweetly pretty, fun, story-bookish, and resoundingly un-sexy. Which I actually appreciated. Because it meant the show was for the kids, and not for their parents. There was nothing ironic or knowing or wink-wink-nudge-nudge-Shrek-raising-an-eyebrow-double-entendre-y about any of it. So Bo Peep was Bo Peep, not a too-tightly-corseted-sequin-spangled Vegas Peep.
Zaza danced and sang and did all the arm moves and squeezed Miss G too tightly with excitement, and then got very sleepy and wanted to know when we could go home.
Thank you, thank you, Ms K and Miss G! We had so much fun -- which I never expected -- so much fun that we had to play it waaaay down when we returned home to I'm-too-old-for-a-Wiggles-concert-but-I'll-be-super-jealous-if-it-rocked Ander...