Our Life Sorta Kinda in the Spotlight

I put Jakey's photos in to the agent and then never heard back, so I didn't think much of it.

Then one day, when I'd all but forgotten about it, I received a phone call and Jake went to an audition. Then he made it to the next round. He didn't get that commercial, but our agent, encouraged, sent us to another audition soon after.

And wouldn't you know, after a few weeks of waiting and deciding that nothing was going to come of making it to the second round, the agent phoned. Jake got the commercial. For Hasbro. National commercial. Mucho dinero.

I was thrilled! My new wardrobe Jakey's college would be paid for.

The only disadvantage was the total disruption to our lives. I had to take Jake to a fitting, which meant a half day away from work. During his nap time. Only to find out that they just needed his clothing sizes. Which I'd already written down during his first audition. And his second audition. But they dutifully wrote everything down and sent us, with a map to the shoot, on our way.

A day later, the production company called to tell me that the shoot was scheduled for 8am to 5pm. Problem one: Nate's preschool opens at 8am. Problem two: David was out of town on business. Problem three: Somehow I anticipated that a commercial shoot would only be, oh, say an hour long. I mean, it all gets edited down to 30 seconds, right? Problem four: Jakey, after a two week run of good health, seemed to be on the verge of a cold.

The other thing I learned was that all shoots with kids have 3-5 kids chosen (and ranked in order of preference), in case one's not performing, or the director wants to go with a girl instead of a boy, etc. He had no idea where my son fit in to the list and he added that we might go to four or five shoots before our child got to actually be in a commercial. I decided it was easier to think of Jakey as the last choice, so as not to get my hopes up.

Thursday morning, my fantabulous neighbours agreed to drive Nate in to school.

We arrived at the shoot, someone's house mansion, borrowed for the commercial.

Once four kids, five parents, and two baby wranglers were crammed into a small bedroom, I learned that Jakey was in fact the number two choice. My heart did a little inside dance, "Whoo hoo! My child's number two! He's number two!" To top it off, Jakey seemed in perfect health, in perfect spirits, and the number one boy seemed way to shy and personality-less, and, hmmmm, not nearly as cute, to be the star boy. (Nope, no stage mom-itis over here at all.)

Then wardrobe happened and I knew we had a problem. The clothes were way too big for the much-bigger-than-Jakey star. And, Jakey was the smallest boy of all of the kids in the room. How could they screw up wardrobe? Wouldn't they know that any kids' clothes can vary by an entire size depending on the maker? How could wardrobe sacrifice my child's chance at stardom?! (Um, yeah, stage mom. Over here.)

When everything was finally ready for the "Talent" as the actors were called, I watched on the monitor as the number one child failed to perform as desired. Even my untrained eye could pick up that there was a problem. And Jakey was busy playing away, in a great mood, ready, just ready, for his impending stardom.

And then it happened. The director called for a break. People gathered in the doorway of our holding cell cosy accommodations, and I knew it was time. I could hear them debating. Did they go for Jake or the number three boy, who was bigger. I wanted to scream, "You have to take Jake! He's number two! He's on! He's beautiful! PICK. MY. BABY!!" But I just smiled at them as they went with the bigger number three boy. (We stage moms are good at covering like that you know.)

But then number three boy went on camera and was "gold, pure gold" to quote the director, who we could hear via the monitor. At that point I shot daggers at his mom and rolled onto my back on the bed. This just sucked. My son should've been in there, getting all the glory. Getting all the greenbacks. Stupid number three. He wasn't nearly as cute as my kid.

Right about there, as stage mom took over my whole body, I started to think that maybe I had a teensy-tiny problem. Maybe.

The long and the short of it, is Jakey did some relief work (back of the head, hand angles), but you'll never know that THAT'S MY SON IN THAT COMMERCIAL! I may, however, request a copy of the commercial to see Jakey's hands in action, and post it here for all to see.

And I'll try not to mutter about how that should be my kid up there.

Seriously.

We were robbed.