AKA: The Sheep Who Stole Bethlehem
There are certain childhood milestones you look forward to as a parent. First steps. First day at school. The first time they sleep through the night. And of course… the school nativity. That magical, glitter-filled event where children dress as shepherds, animals, and angels and attempt to tell the story of Christmas while their parents sit beaming proudly — or sweating nervously, depending on the child.
Naturally, as the mother of CJ Swaby, I arrived fully prepared for anything. Extra tissues, extra patience, and a strong internal pep talk just in case he did something… well… CJ-ish.
Spoiler:
He did.
🐑 A Sheep With Superstar Energy
The cast started to walk out, and before I could even blink, my eyes were drawn to a familiar little head of curls bouncing in the front row. There he was: CJ, dressed as the cutest sheep you’ve ever seen — though, let’s be honest, he looked more like a sheep who would headline at Glastonbury.
As soon as he spotted me and his dad, his entire face lit up like someone had plugged him into the mains. He grinned — all teeth, the full 32, even the ones he hasn’t grown yet — and waved so enthusiastically I thought his little arm might detach and fly off into the audience. The pride radiating from him was unreal. You could practically hear him thinking:
“MUM! DAD! LOOK! I AM SHEEP. YOU ARE WELCOME.”
I melted. Completely. Heart in a puddle.
Little did I know this was merely the warm-up act.
🎶 The Singing Begins… and So Does CJ
The music started. The class began their sweet, gentle, choreographed singing and hand movements — the kind teachers have spent weeks practising.
And then there was CJ.
To give him full credit, he did join in. For at least three seconds at a time. But every couple of minutes he would suddenly pop up like a jack-in-the-box, scan the audience, spot us again and give an enthusiastic wave… or a wink.
A wink.
I’m not sure where he learned to wink like that — somewhere between “cheeky toddler” and “70-year-old man in a pub” — but there he was, throwing them out like he was starring in his own Christmas rom-com.
Other kids were singing.
CJ was flirting with the audience.
Classic.
🤘 And Then Came the Big Stage Moment
Halfway through the performance, the children were invited up onto the stage for a special dance number. Up they went, lined up neatly, sweet little halos of concentration on their faces.
They danced.
They swayed.
They waited for their final pose — hands up, last note held, cherubs in perfect formation.
Except one.
Because CJ — my wonderful, spirited, endlessly dramatic child — decided that the grand finale of a school nativity was the PERFECT moment to reinvent himself as a rockstar.
The song finished.
Every other child raised their arms angelically.
CJ?
CJ did a full, dramatic, knee slide across the stage.
A proper one. Like he was auditioning for School of Rock.
On his knees. Arms out. Hair flying. Spotlight imaginary but fully deserved.
I nearly ascended to the heavens from sheer shock.
And CJ?
He looked as proud as if he’d just won Britain’s Got Talent.
👼 Enter: The Angels… and CJ the Wannabe
After the rockstar moment, out came the little angels — a vision of white dresses, tinsel halos, and delicate wings. The music softened. The lights dimmed. It was serene. Peaceful. Almost holy.
Until I noticed something moving in the corner of the stage.
There was CJ, sitting with his class… pretending to be an angel.
Pretending is putting it lightly.
He had his arms flapping like a pigeon chasing chips at the seafront. His tongue was sticking out. His eyes were rolling dramatically like he was being possessed by the Spirit of Christmas Chaos itself.
I desperately tried to catch his eye to signal “STOP. STOP NOW. FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT IS HOLY.”
But of course, that made him worse.
He saw me.
He grinned.
He doubled his flapping efforts like a deranged cherub on an energy drink.
Imagine a peaceful choir of angelic children… and then CJ in the corner, miming the words with exaggerated opera-style mouth shapes and flapping like he’s trying to take flight.
I’ll never forget it.
🔭 The Imaginary Binoculars Make Their Debut
As the show carried on, CJ found a new hobby: imagining he had binoculars.
Every so often, he’d lift his hands to his face, forming pretend lenses, and scan the audience like a wildlife documentary presenter searching for rare creatures.
To be clear:
He was not subtle.
He would stand up — fully stand — peer around dramatically, nod in satisfaction when he found us, then wave like he’d spotted celebrities.
Meanwhile, every other child remained seated, angelic, perfectly in character.
And then there was my son, the self-appointed Sheep Patrol Surveillance Unit.
🍑 The Shaky Toushy Incident
No performance featuring CJ would be complete without a dance break. And by dance break, I mean him breaking into spontaneous booty shaking whenever the music even slightly hinted at a beat.
There he was, bum wiggling, shoulders shimmying, vibing like he was at a school disco instead of the Nativity of Our Lord and Saviour.
I swear even baby Jesus turned his head in the manger like,
“Who is that child?”
💛 Final Thoughts from One Very Proud Mum
Was he the most obedient sheep in the stable?
Absolutely not.
Was he hilarious, joyful, full of personality, and completely unforgettable?
YES.
He waved, he winked, he knee-slid, he flapped, he shook his little bum, he scanned the room with imaginary binoculars…
And he loved every single minute.
And so did we.
Because while other parents watched the nativity…
We watched CJ be CJ.
And it was perfect.
