Some Broadway producers tried to capture that magic by making it into a musical. Sadly, it compeltely tanked, and was only on the Great White Way for a little under six months. However, that was long enough for my high school drama director to see it and decide that we would perform Big: The Musical in the Spring of my Junior year. I was cast as Mrs. Baskin, aka Tom Hanks' mother. For lots of different reasons too numerous to go into, we didn't end up doing the musical. I instead played Sarah Brown in Guys and Dolls that year, another one of my favorites. But every now and then, I think about the show that never was and how much fun it would have been to perform. Of the songs that Mrs. Baskin sings, "Stop Time," has always stuck with me. It was moving when I was 16, but now that I'm thirtysomething and have two kids of my own, it means oh-so-much more.
I go back to work in a little over two weeks, which marks the end of my days at home with tiny boy. My maternity leave has flown by, and I know it's just the beginning of time slipping away from me. As I hold Everett and stare at his itty bitty baby features, I think about how quickly Ethan has grown, and Mrs. Baskin's song plays on a loop in my head:
How his smile melts your heart!
You want to say, "Stop, time."
"Don't move on."
Even as you watch, that look is gone.
Then he's two, such a little man.
So alive and so smart!
Again you say, "Stop, time."
"Stay just this way."
But the future comes, and he can't stay.
Nobody warns you of this parent's paradox -
You want your kid to change and grow,
But when he does, another child you've just begun to know,
Birthdays fly - 7, 8, 9, 10.
Every kid he becomes you clutch and say "Stop, time."
"Hold this one fast!"
But it's not supposed to last.
And that time has come and passed.
For he's growing,
And he has to go.