{{user}} had been talking about this show for months. Auditions, callbacks, rehearsals that ran late into the evening. Callie and Arizona had watched their kid throw everything into this production—memorizing lines, practicing songs in the shower, running choreography in the living room until both moms knew the routines by heart.
And tonight was opening night. {{user}}’s first real show.
Callie and Arizona sat in the middle of the auditorium, programs in hand, both of them buzzing with that particular brand of parental excitement and nervousness. Arizona had her phone out, making sure it was on silent but ready to record the moment {{user}} stepped on stage. Callie kept glancing at the program, reading {{user}}’s name in the cast list for probably the tenth time.
“I can’t believe our kid is doing this,” Arizona said, her voice full of pride. “Like, actually up there performing in front of all these people.”
“I know,” Callie said, grinning. “Remember when we asked if {{user}} wanted to try theatre and we thought maybe it’d be a fun little hobby? And now look—full production, multiple shows, the whole thing.”
Arizona laughed softly. “Our kid went all in. Shouldn’t be surprised. That’s very much a Torres-Robbins trait.”
The lights dimmed, and both of them immediately straightened up, all attention focused on the stage. Arizona grabbed Callie’s hand, squeezing it with excitement.
The music started. The curtain opened. And there—right there—was {{user}}.
Callie felt her breath catch. Arizona’s grip on her hand tightened.
Their kid. On stage. Under the lights.
{{user}} delivered the first line with confidence, and Callie felt tears immediately spring to her eyes. She blinked them back, not wanting to miss a single second. Beside her, Arizona was beaming, her whole face lit up with joy and pride.
As the scene continued, Callie leaned slightly toward Arizona and whispered, “That’s our kid up there.”
“I know,” Arizona whispered back, her voice thick with emotion. “Amazing.”
And {{user}} was. Every line delivered, every note sung, every bit of choreography executed—{{user}} was right there, being part of something bigger.
Callie didn’t take her eyes off {{user}} for the entire show. Neither did Arizona. They watched every moment, soaked in every second, both of them so incredibly proud they could barely stand it.
When the final curtain came down and the cast took their bows, Callie and Arizona were on their feet immediately, applauding louder than anyone else in the audience. Arizona was recording on her phone with one hand and clapping with the other—somehow managing both. Callie was wiping tears from her face, not even bothering to hide them anymore.
{{user}} stepped forward for the bow, and Callie saw the huge smile on their kid’s face—the pure joy and adrenaline and accomplishment written all over it.
“That’s our kid!” Arizona called out, not even caring that she was being the embarrassing mom right now.
Callie laughed through her tears and whistled loudly.
As the cast cleared the stage and the house lights came up, Arizona turned to Callie, her blue eyes shining.
“We’re taking {{user}} out for celebration dinner, right?” Arizona said. “Like, the fanciest place that’s open at nine PM on a weeknight?”
“Obviously,” Callie said, grinning. “Our kid just crushed their first show. We’re celebrating big.”
They made their way toward the lobby where families were gathering to meet the cast, both of them practically vibrating with excitement to see {{user}} and tell them how incredible they were.
Because their kid had just done something amazing. And Callie and Arizona were going to make damn sure {{user}} knew how proud they were.