Opinion

STUCK MIDDLE: Only a preschooler can croon 'Rudolph' like this

By BILL HUMLEKER, Published: December 15, 2025

I have just listened to my 4-year-old grandson sing “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer” as only a 4-year-old can. James is practicing for his pre-school’s Christmas program, and if his somewhat tortured rendition is any indication, it’ll be a hoot. 

Now, 4-year-olds have very little sense of rhythm, and most cannot really carry a tune, but James can mug with abandon and ham-it-up better than Abbot and Costello, Charlie Chaplin, and Bob Hope all rolled into one 3½-foot, very determined and energetic little fellow. Add to this image the use of a karaoke microphone that he got for Christmas last year, and it makes for a priceless picture.

I have vague memories of my own school Christmas programs from once upon a time. I remember being herded onto the gymnasium risers … we all wanted to be in front … and struggling to find my mother in the audience … and then waving wildly when I found her. We wandered distractedly through “Up on the Housetop …” and had learned to snap our fingers at the appropriate place, only no one remembered how when required. That caused some kerfuffle, but we continued on and finished almost together. My teacher’s name was Miss Beaty, and a Nobel prize would not have been inappropriate.

The next year there was no 1st grade participation in the school’s holiday program because my entire class had come down with the measles. I (age six) was allowed to sing “Away in a Manger” for my parents and 1-week-old sister from across our living room before being hustled back to bed by my no-nonsense aunt as no one wanted the baby exposed to my germs. I was not very happy.

I was further annoyed a week later when I had pretty-much recovered from the measles, but upon arrival at my grandparents’ home late Christmas morning, was confined to my mother’s upstairs bedroom while everyone else ooohed and ahhhed over the baby. Then one of my cousins wandered into my “jail” and proceeded to tell me that Santa Claus was a lot of nonsense invented to keep kids in line during the holidays. A little later my mother brought up a tray with my lunch and said that she was sorry I could not eat with everyone, but that my grandparents were old, and my sister very young, and none of those three could risk exposure. “But Mama, I am all better!” carried no water. 

Later that afternoon my grandmother tried to mollify me by telling me that she believed in Santa Claus, and that year, he had brought us my new sister as a wonderful family present. I wonder why I didn’t think so. Of course, I recovered just fine even though my sister will tell you with a straight face that I have never really forgiven her. She is mostly wrong. Sometimes I wonder if we have any of us really grown up.

But never mind. I love Christmas and its lovely, warm and colorful season. And Santa has been extraordinarily good to me ever since that strange tangle of events when I was six. There were many subsequent school Christmas programs I soldiered through, and I was very proud of our Princesses when they squirmed and wriggled on stage and sang holiday songs a few years ago. And now I will rejoice and grin foolishly as James and his classmates muddle on about Rudolph and his “nose so bright.”

So, a sincere “Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night!”   

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Stuck in the Late Middle columnist writes about family, culture and traditions from his home in Flat Rock.