Theatre in Review: That Parenting Musical (Theatre Row)We already have enough trouble with the falling birth rate; do we need That Parenting Musical, too? Graham and Kristina Fuller, a pair of Off-Broadway first-timers, have assembled a revue that portrays the raising of children as an eighteen-year life sentence without parole, a living hell of sleeplessness, frustration, and misplaced bodily fluids. (The show features more pee gags than any three productions of Urinetown.) As a childless cat person of a certain age, I may not be the target audience; however, this perky inventory of annoyances often feels like its producer is Planned Parenthood. (And, yes, of course, there's a musical number about vasectomies.) That Parenting Musical has a throughline of sorts, tracking a couple known as Mom and Dad from that alarming positive pregnancy test to elementary school. Also on hand are Child 1 and Child 2 plus Mom's bitter single friend and her new boyfriend Todd, who swear they don't want kids. Not really characters, all are types put through a series of supposedly relatable songs and sketches. These include an ode to yoga pants ("the official mom uniform") and cargo pants ("See me looking like a/Douchey dude in a dorm"), an inventory of traveling with toddlers ("It starts with binkies, babas, bunnies/Blankies pink and blue and gray"), and the sheer exhaustion of dealing with little tykes ("Let's cut the crap/Embarrassing/The parenting minefield is harrowing"). The irritations are endless: It's not just that the kids are walking Petri dishes of snot, strep, and the flu; they're also magnets for the most dangerous object in any room. Hunting for shock-of-recognition laughs, That Parenting Musical consistently aims for the lowest common denominator; its gags are often only marginally better than the "Dad jokes" it repeatedly parodies. Such conditions would challenge any professional actor but, under Jen Wineman's endlessly cheerful direction, the cast does its best. McKenna Ogrodnik is something of a find as Mom, radiating a sunny professionalism in the shakiest of circumstances. (This includes a routine in which, trying to pee in an airport bathroom while holding an infant, she drops a binkie, sanitizes it by licking it, and puts it in the tot's mouth. Neither Stella Dallas nor Mildred Pierce sacrificed so much for a child.) As Dad, Dwayne Washington makes something nice out of "Glide," a nighttime meditation on fatherhood. As for the apples that fall far from the tree: A sly, amusingly sullen Vidushi Goyal makes the most of "Second Child Blues. "I'm the least interesting part of this show," she laments, making one of the evening's more debatable statements; her low-ball approach is welcome in a generally frenetic evening. Outfitted in what looks like the Pride edition of Dr. Denton pajamas, the always professional Max Crumm wrestles with feeble jokes about "anal or oral" (they're playing a toddler!) and "titty cheese" (that's breast milk, to you). Then again, they get the best number, "A Little Bit of Space," making a solid case for supporting a kid who is either neurodivergent, queer, or just plain odd. Natalie Bourgeois adopts a breezily sarcastic manner as Mom's single friend, who shuns the idea of reproduction until she meets Brian Owen's schlumpy lothario. The production is easy on the eyes, thanks to Tim Mackabee's deluxe kindergarten set, with its illuminated proscenium and walls covered with crayon drawings. Alan C. Edwards' lighting, Tina McCarthy's costumes, and Jessica Paz's sound design all provide a patina of professionalism. The Fullers' contributions are strictly by the numbers, with unremarkable melodies and lyrics like "Shutter the windows while it's still warm/Brace for the impending shitstorm" presented as a soul of wit. Mom also has a number, "Behind," about the joys of hiding out in the bathroom. ("I'm a queen on my throne/I am clean, I'm alone.") That Parenting Musical relentlessly hits the same points, maintaining an air of forced cheerfulness throughout, and its sense of humor is reliably sophomoric: Clearly, when it was being created, more adult supervision was needed. --David Barbour 
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