Theater is a big part of what makes New York shine. This city is full of talent that even the youngest can appreciate, and at the best Broadway shows, everyone in your crew will be interested.

The Lion King (Ages 8 and up.)

There’s a reason Simba’s story continues to draw in crowds year after year: It’s an amazing production with amazing sets and a moving score. Seeing The Lion King live is something like a ceremony for New York kids. Unconvinced? Ask the 100 million+ audience members worldwide who’ve seen the performance.

Six (Ages 10 and up.)

On a concert stage, backed by an all-female band, the six wives of Tudor Dynasty Henry Ⅷ air their complaints in the form of modern pop. The queens sing their heads off, and the audience loses its mind. Some of the stories are pretty dark, but the girl-power dance moves will make older kids excited.

Wicked (Ages 8 and up.)

Based on novelist Gregory Maguire’s 1995 adult variation on L. Frank Baum’s The Wonderful Wizard of Oz, Wicked shows what happened before the events in the children’s book. The musical addresses complex themes, such as standards of beauty and morality. While children five and up are permitted in the theater, little ones might be afraid of the flying monkeys.

Come from Away (Ages 10 and up.)

One of the more unlikely musicals on Broadway is an excellent choice for the family: Come from Away is the tense but humane story of an airport in Gander, Newfoundland, where 38 planes and more than 6,000 passengers were forced to land on September 11, 2001. It raises big topics, but in such a way that invites thoughtful discussion.

I have a strange and frequent dream in which I am assigned a lead role in a major musical production and eagerly agree to take it on — knowing I can’t sing or act my way out of a paper bag, and knowing I’d rather be anywhere but front and center onstage. The dream always ends before the production starts, to the benefit of my self-respect, the unlucky director’s reputation, and my potential audience—who no doubt would have fled at the first note.

I chalk it up to my one and only experience in such things, my high school’s production of South Pacific, a musical I’d so loved as a teen I could not resist auditioning (试镜) —not for a major role, but as one of the chorus of island women raising our arms in the background.

I was cast immediately, a fact I attribute (归功于) to my olive skin and then long black hair, which overcame any doubts the director might have had about my voice. I could pass as an islander. Not only that, but my mother sewed a skirt for me, a beautiful, vividly colored, and artful feat of sewing. The opening night was a triumph for all. But I haven’t set foot on a stage again.

In his elementary school years, my grandson took a shine to attending live theater with me. But he demurred when I suggested he audition for local children’s productions. “It’s not me,” he declared, even as one of his close friends went from a local stage production to a Broadway role.

But the source of these dreams, decades later, still confuses me. The dreams never give me a hint of why I’d been chosen for a starring role once in an Italian opera without having any singing or acting talent or even an audition, or why I’d decided to go for it, knowing I was completely unequipped and unprepared. I suspect (猜想) these dreams will get me as close to such a reality as I’ll ever be.

For now, I only hope I keep waking up before I have to try an opening note.