IF there is a better show in town than a day nursery’s annual Christmas Nativity production, I haven’t heard about it. This is when under fives sparkle, parents and grandparents bask in reflected glory – and the unexpected happens, often causing parental pride to turn to embarrassment. But laughter is assured.

At the weekend I was eagerly waiting to see my youngest grandson – aged four - strut his stuff. The village hall was packed, the lights dimmed and the curtains opened.

It was a surprise to find Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs had muscled into Bethlehem, but what do I know. Before I could ask, a little chap dressed as a robin burst into tears, yelled for his mum, and was spirited into the wings by one of the helpers. He was not seen again.

The boy’s cries seriously affected the small girl (a snow flake) sitting beside him and she had ‘a little accident’ and was promptly removed. Two down, and the show was barely a minute old.

Enter Mary and Joseph and a hobby horse. The couple didn’t have time to ask for accommodation as the script demanded, before the innkeeper grabbed each by the wrist and marched them towards the stable, causing Joseph to drop the horse. Mary walked on majestically.

She was loving and living the lead role, even though Snow White might have disputed this.

Meanwhile, several children spotted their families, shouting and waving vigorously. One tiny boy called out that he was ‘a naughty elf’. His father said it was typecasting.

Another snowflake – a lad with a face like thunder – made it plain the part was not for him and removed his white costume and headed off, stage right, only to be propelled back, minus costume. Thunder became a fully blown storm.

Two shepherds, both under three years old, were fighting over who should hold a toy sheep, while their chum, sitting between them, sustained several blows. He appeared unconcerned, preferring to pick his nose as boys are wont to do.

The angels did their bit in fairy dresses and wings, although one mother told me later she felt her daughter’s refusal to remove her multi-coloured stockings had been a distraction.

Two wise men came from stage left – the third had thrown a paddy because he thought he was carrying the gold.

Consequently Baby Jesus never got the myrrh.

The performance was drawing to a close when Mary stood up, elegantly lifted her blue dress and stepped over the crib, baby et al, and walked to the front of the stage. The audience hushed. Putting her hands on her hips she spoke for the first time.

“Mummy, I want to wee,” she announced imperiously.

The curtains closed to tremendous applause, only to re-open for the curtain call – by which time Mary had disappeared.

I wouldn't have missed it for the world.

Happy Christmas, everyone. See you in 2010!