This morning at camp drop-off, it was smiles all around. I think Sophie would prefer basketball to drama (in the abstract, anyway) and maybe Annabelle would still rather have it in reverse, but both girls are happy.

Phew.

As we walked down the steep ramp to the basketball arena yesterday morning, the First Day, I thought Annabelle was going to lose it. As soon as she saw the lowered hoops — and, I think, sensed the lowered expectations — she was okay. Today I got a double thumbs up.

Sophie’s camp experience has been downright uneventful. I have the sitter with her, though I’m guessing we’d be okay without her. (Sophie might but I wouldn’t so the sitter stays.)

But one thing was a little bizarre. It’s what my friend and colleague Robrt (that’s not a typo, it’s how he spells it) calls a Phoenix Moment, given the small world nature of this town. I call it more proof that the theater world is just full of drama.

A few years back, some writing pals and I got together and put on a play. You can do that kind of thing in Phoenix. No, really, you can. And people will even come. We gathered monologues about motherhood from writers we’d worked with in the Mothers Who Write class, found a director and a venue and dates and named it Pearls: Motherhood Unstrung.

I make it sound so easy. It was a gigantic pain in the ass. But it happened, we did it, in large thanks to the co-producer, an amazing actor/writer/mom/person named  Debra Rich Gettleman, and, frankly, her husband’s pediatric practice, our largest benefactor. No, we didn’t make it to Broadway, but we had a respectable run. And we did it all from scratch.

Pearls is but a distant memory at this point. It’s where I learned just how much drama there can be in the world of theater. (Oy! That’s all I’ll say.) I went to as many performances as I could — hey, they were performing my stuff! My stories about Sophie, from pre-motherhood to the notion that the world retarded just isn’t funny anymore. I was a pig in shit, mainly because I had two incredible actors doing my role. (They switched off.)

I had forgotten the casting drama. But something about Pearls tickled the edge of my memory Sunday night, when I read the details about Sophie’s camp. One of the teacher’s names sounded so familiar. I emailed Debra. She emailed me back the next morning to say yeah, it should sound familiar. That’s the actor who originally accepted the role as “Amy” then backed out at the last minute. I never knew exactly why she didn’t take the role, but now I do know why the teacher/actor didn’t quite catch my eye yesterday morning. At least, I think that’s why.

Really, what were the chances of that happening?

Did Sophie’s teacher remember Pearls? Hmmm, I don’t know. Oh, come on. There aren’t many kids with Down syndrome named Sophie in this town, with moms named Amy.

Or maybe her memory’s as bad as mine. True, she and I never met face to face. At least, I don’t think we did.

In any case, AWKWARD. Do I say something? Or do I uncharacteristically leave it be, put on my game face, and let the girls enjoy their week at camp?

Ah, the drama.