A backyard big top steals the show

The return of mosquitoes hinted it was coming, as did the freckles alighting on my children's noses, not to mention the puddling of soppy swimsuits on the bathroom floor. But summer didn't arrive in full glory at our house until 9-year-old Polly announced that Ladies and Gentlemen, the Circus would begin in 15 minutes, and did I have some paper cups for lemonade, and how do you spell "Amazing Acts"?

As a mother, I've been a yard-circus spectator for over 10 years now, watching dozens of amazing acts, from spur-of-the-moment one-child productions to days-in-the-making full-neighborhood extravaganzas.

A yard circus is likely to have a theme - teeter-totter, balance beam, bicycle - but there may also be a water-balloon fight or saxophone solo tossed in for variety. Younger siblings are often summoned to fill the glamorless supporting roles, bribed with the promise of shiny quarters (there's a sucker born every minute) - though these understudies are inclined to wander off to dig in the dirt prior to curtain time.

This season's opener found its spiraled inception the day Polly's friend Tess came to visit. The girls' play had evolved from dolls to dress-up. By mid-afternoon they'd donned old dance costumes and begun daubing makeup, which led to face painting (a lion and a tiger), which naturally called for a circus.

Could she invite our neighbors, Kathy and her teenage daughter, Beth, Polly wanted to know. As circus success depends as much on quality of audience as on quality of production, my children rely on this enthusiastic mother-daughter duo.

Kathy and Beth line up for tickets at a moment's notice with dollar bills ("Keep the change!"), sometimes a camera, and always gushing praise. Beth, home from college for the summer, has circus blood. Years ago, she herself was a flamboyant trapeze girl, swinging daringly from streamer-bedecked swing-set crossbars in some of the first yard circuses I attended.

Other members of the Amazing Acts' audience included Polly's 6-year-old twin brothers (a clowning contingent), her 11-year-old sister (attending as critic), and me, mother of the Ringmistress (as well as half the audience).

As in a real circus, the star of a yard show must don several hats. Moments after seating the spectators and pocketing her share of the gate receipts, the ticket-taker is likely to leap into the ring as animal trainer (or animal). Forthwith she hawks refreshments (her pockets now bulging), performs a dance routine, and closes the show with a balancing act.

In contrast to professional circuses, the yard circus audience is also called to multiple roles. I underwrite forgivable loans to finance production, assist with concessions, and police troublemakers in the crowd. I have even stepped in as emergency costume designer (tying socks to a headband to transform child to pachyderm).

"The Amazing Acts" turned out to be two crowd-pleasing trampoline routines, lasting about a minute each. The first was a tightly choreographed jump-and-dance spectacle, with a brief, surprise intermission as the performers held a head-to-head conference: Did the double-clap part come before or after the leap-turn-shimmy?

After extended applause and glowing reviews shared loudly among audience members (I shushed the 11-year-old's less-glowing remarks tout-de-suite), the dancers passed lemonade. Then they prepped for Act 2, which incorporated a pantomimed plot line, as Polly the tamer urged a balking tiger Tess to jump through a hula hoop.

When the tamer turned her back on the tiger, imploring the audience's sympathy, the wily tiger leaped through the hoop unbidden, bringing wild-pitched laughter from the six-year-old spectators, who then tumbled from their lawn chairs and scrambled onto the trampoline-stage themselves, wrestling for the hula hoop. Polly and Tess huffed with exasperation, as I corralled all wayward tiger wannabes back to their seats.

At the insistence of Kathy and Beth, the mollified stars then performed an encore of cartwheels and final bows, which lasted longer than the show itself.

Then (with the audience cast as custodial help), Kathy and Beth folded lawn chairs as I bent to pluck paper cups from the grass. We agreed that "The Amazing Acts" had qualified as a first-rate yard circus, and summer was indeed upon us, in all its sticky splendor.