Oh, thank heaven somebody else's angel blocked our son from view for a merciful but short period of time.
Mild amusement morphs to sheer terror and mother mortification.
Right up to the moment when you noticed your mother crouched very, very close to the stage hissing things at you like take. those. glasses. off. and smart. en. up.
All that vinegar seemed to just drain out of you in that moment. Could have been the hissing. Could have been the mother-death-glare. Might have been the sudden, jerky, arm-flailing sign language that your mama was sending you.
Whatever it was. I hope I've got a whole lot more of that in storage somewhere.
And I hope I'll not be called upon to use it any time soon again....
(on second thought.... I was already using my reserves. Let's not forget his brother before him.)