Aside from having given birth to its queen, I’ve had little involvement with drama.

But the end of this month, I’ll be onstage at the Clay Center as a lip-synching, yodeling townsperson in the Children’s Theatre production of “Hansel & Gretel.”

Before anyone tsk-tsks me over not singing–trust me, I do so with the public’s best interest at heart. As one who can’t manage to walk while just thinking about chewing gum, it’s not likely I could make it from backstage to front, waving my arms like windshield wipers while singing “yodel-a, yodel-a-he” without injuring some innocent cookie or causing great pain to many innocent eardrums.

My 9-year-old daughter is one of those cookies. And she’s also responsible for getting me (a lifelong sufferer of stage fright) up on the stage.

At one of the first practices, the play’s director, Kelly Strom, asked for parent volunteers to stand in as townspeople. Kelly worded her request in such a way that many of the parents believed she needed us just for that night. I’ve come to suspect Kelly worded it that way for a reason. It was no accident. She’s a sly one, that Kelly.

But she and her assistant drill sergeant–I mean, stage manager–Donna Venable-Thompson, are impressive to watch, adeptly managing the 58-person cast, made up mostly of children ages 6 to 16.

They start off simply–teaching stage terms, explaining the parts, showing each cast member where to stand. Once those details are mastered, more is added–a dance step, a hand movement, a facial expression. Great gobs of guidance aren’t doled out at once, but a bit at a time. When the children are ready. Corrections are done with just the right mixture of humor and seriousness.

There are numerous songs and movements and expressions for the children to remember, numerous attitudes and inflections to perfect. Early on, it seemed like too much. But I’ve learned you should never underestimate children. They’re capable of more than we can imagine.

And then there’s us moms. The yodeling moms. It’s not a large group, but the women are fun and good-natured. Sadly, though, they’re not easily corruptible. Instead of just waving our empty hands back and forth over our heads, I tried to convince them to all hold up lighters, but no one was game.

Most of the moms, myself included, seem determined to blend into the background as much as we can, to not call attention to ourselves in any way. When my daughter came home from practice without me one evening, she filled me in on the general details of rehearsal, then as an afterthought, mentioned that Kelly announced she was going to put microphones on all the moms.

“She’s going to do what?”

“Microphones,” Celeste said casually. “On all of the moms.”

Up to that point, I’d actually been singing during rehearsals. Granted, I didn’t sing loud. I’m a responsible citizen, aware of the pain my voice box is capable of inflicting (it was once suggested I have it registered as a lethal weapon). But the thought of having a microphone attached to my body

in close proximity to that which has brought me both ridicule and shame was mortifying.

At the next practice, as soon as one of the other yodeling moms was nearby, I asked if she’d heard about “the microphone thing.” When she said she hadn’t, I explained. She paled visibly. Together, we approached another mom to see what she knew. Her eyes soon grew wide.

“Surely not,” she said, sounding distraught.

“I don’t know,” I said. “She said it so casually and with such authority. No way could she come up with a prank like that on her own.”

But, like I said, never underestimate children.

Especially an apple that not only didn’t fall far from the tree, but rather traveled straight down.

The Clay Center performances of Hansel & Gretel will be at 7 p.m. Oct. 27, at 7 p.m., and at 2 and 7 p.m. Oct. 28.

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