I can never say "backstage passes" without thinking of Clarissa Explains It All. They are forever linked in my mind. I don't care how cool you were when you were a kid: you wanted to be Clarissa, and have Sam climb up to your bedroom window with those coveted lanyards in hand.
My nine-year-old self would never believe in a million years that I'd marry a musician and would end up with more than my share of backstage access.
The kids, sadly, aren't the least impressed, and have almost no interest in going back stage (probably because of a serious lack of Clarissa Explains It All during their formative years).
But at Whim's most recent event, without thinking, I called their passes VIP tags. Hold up, everybody. Excuse me, people! Did you hear that? We are VIP. The kids might as well have been invited to the White House. They have never been better behaved. They raved (quietly) about the soft carpet, savored their complimentary bottled waters, and sat like perfect gentlemen.
If I knew that's all it took, I would have gotten them some VIP tags a long time ago!