But it must be said that it's paying off.

The standing ovation I got at home when I completed the complex Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer/Santa Claus is Coming to Town combo was the most energetic I've seen since I graduated from the starting blocks position (which I perfected over a three-month period) to actually moving forwards on all fours, just embarrassingly shy of my first birthday.

I don't know if you can appreciate the level of focus which has to be employed by someone of my tender years in order to learn two full, proper songs and perform them to the letter - or nearly the letter.

At one point Rudolph did have a 'berry shiny road' - but there's still two weeks until curtain up and hopefully on the big day I'll be able to belt out those bad boys just as well as Joseph did all those years ago.

That aside, I think we can all agree that this is all a few rungs up the ladder from Wheels on the Bus or Baa Baa Black Sheep, and I'm enjoying the challenge., as well as the added developmental benefits which have come with it.

My increasingly earnest disposition during rehearsals has led me to develop a new hobby: people watching. I love it, and am starting to form some ideas about the kinds of people that there are.

Let me illustrate a selection of my musings using some members of the cast.
Take Alan for example (as you may have guessed, I'm changing the names to protect the identities of my thespian comrades).

Forever standing to the left of whatever is going on, you can always count on him for a quirky one-worder. Like when we were doing food words in Spanish the other day, and he comes out with 'martillo' - which, for the uneducated among you, means hammer. He's out there.

Then we have Blanche, the crowd pleaser and consummate performer. She's always smiling - even during run through number five - and is always the first to volunteer when the teachers ask for help. She's one you'd want on your team... but maybe not at your birthday party.

Now we come to Kenneth, the pre-schooler who uses a megaphone when a whisper would do splendidly. Seriously... why would anyone think they were so interesting that everyone needed to hear everything they said?

I wouldn't mind so much if he had good craic of any kind. But he doesn't.

And so we arrive at Frank. Now, before we go any further, I want make it absolutely clear that I love the fella. But he'd be the first to admit he's an acquired taste.

You see Frank's the strong and silent one in the group. He may be three and a bit, and stand taller than the rest of us, but Frank prefers to observe rather than participate.

You're lucky if you get four or five words out of him on a good day... and if he's had a hard night with his younger sister (she's teething like you wouldn't believe), he pretty much employs the mute approach across the board.

Now I come to think of it, that probably explains why me and Frank get on so well (and why he was overlooked for the part of narrator).

Oh yes readers... I didn't avoid the mirror when it came to the people watching.
I know I'm a chatterbox... you may have noticed I have quite a bit to say, for someone who has only been around the sun a trio of times.

But I refuse to apologise. It took a long time for me to grasp the concept of verbal communication. And like a baton in a soft play relay, I'm unlikely to be letting it go any time soon.

For now though, it's back to the script.