Sex Education: The Musical Version - The Sequel

As many of you will remember from my January 13, 2011 post "Sex Education: The Musical Version", I was rather furious with City Playhouse for their lack of a warning on a musical being performed there.  The musical contained a song about a specific private male bodily function to put it mildly.  I was not sure I was comfortable with my daughter hearing this song so I sent them an e-mail asking that they send me my tickets so that I could either sell them or give them away.  After nearly two weeks without hearing anything, I got Hubby to call the box office and find out what was happening.  He explained that we wouldn't be able to attend the performance and City Playhouse quickly offered to cancel our tickets and issue us gift certificates for a future show.  Great!  This was a wonderful solution!  So we waited . . . and waited . . . and waited . . . and yesterday in the mail we got . . . (wait for it) . . . OUR TICKETS!  Not gift certificates as promised but our tickets!  Hubby no longer wanted to go and I couldn't go without him even though I had mellowed out to the show content.  With four days to go before the performance, the likelihood of us finding someone to buy/take the tickets seemed slim to none.  Our daughter was busy through this whole incident texting her BFF with a blow by blow description of our dilemma.  Then BFF told her mother and they offered to buy the two adult tickets.  Cool!  We unloaded them at a price of two for one.  Now with only a student ticket left we were considering our options when BFF invited my daughter to join her mom and her with the extra student ticket.  Nice.  Thanks BFF.  Torn on whether the content would bother her, I allowed my daughter  to listen to said song on the computer to see her reaction.  Naive mother that I am, she was totally okay with it (there were even a few giggles).  So now on Sunday, Hubby and I will sit at home while our daughter goes with BFF and her mom to the show with the song that I didn't want her to hear in the first place.  Ironic ain't it?