He's a skinny, smiling 12-year-old boy from Randallstown who wants to be a choreographer: That's Brett Lockley.

When he took a single dance class last year in New York, he didn't know he was trying out for something big. Then, he got it, a part in the traveling version of the Radio City Christmas Spectacular. Here was his chance to learn from the professionals, to dance with the Rockettes!

It got better. He could open the world-famous show, all 4 feet 8 inches of him, fitted into a white soldier suit, a plume atop his hat. There in the 4,500-seat Grand Palace in Branson, Mo., the curtain would rise on him, a toy soldier, dancing around a giant Christmas tree. Brett, in the spotlight!

There was a snag, though. He couldn't travel unless he had a parent with him. The road show runs 11 weeks. The three other kids in the cast had stay-at-home moms, but Brett's parents both work. "We have to do this," his father said when Brett made the cut. "We'll work it out somehow." And he picked up the phone. What he made happen last year was a smash hit, and this year, there's an encore.

Other kids have stage moms. Brett Lockley has a support- ing cast.

The stage grandfather, on mom's side. Somebody has to make sure Brett doesn't leave his costumes on the dressing room floor.

Bossie Davis' stay in Branson is the longest; he flew out for two weeks after stopping by Deer Park Middle School to pick up the latest batch of schoolwork for his grandson. Retired now, Bossie, 67, will head to Phoenix for another week when the show moves this weekend.

At the handoff at the Springfield/Branson Airport, he gets a list of instructions. It's the same as last year: Brett gets up at 6:30 a.m. and leaves the condominium at 7:15 a.m. for school. Bossie and the parents of the other three children take turns driving the children to school and picking them up at noon. A quick lunch and Bossie must have his grandson back at 1 p.m. for the 2 p.m. show. Then, he sits, sometimes until 11 p.m.

The children alternate performing in the two daily shows, and backstage, where they must remain even when they aren't in the show, granddad and grandson play on Brett's laptop. PlayStation 2. So many crazy games. Bossie is not that good at any of them.

Behind the scenes, amid the hustle and bustle, four or five costume changes, 55 cast members, the camels and goats for the Nativity scene, Bossie watches his grandson engage Rockettes in conversation.

Brett knows everything, Bossie says, every little part, every detail, from following around the manager and choreographer. This far into the season, he can dance anybody's role. Mostly, Bossie stays out of the way. But granddad does make sure Brett gets to the dressing room after each scene and hangs up his clothes. And Bossie jokes with the cast.

On Mondays, Brett's day off, Bossie takes him to the movies or helps him catch up on homework. Then he treats them both to what he calls the best malted milk and apple pie in the world at a restaurant where the waiters sing. Last year, Bossie gained 10 pounds.

He enjoys himself enough to leave a big bouquet of flowers for the cast. And it's another way to help his daughter and son-in-law, Sharon and Robert Lockley. Back when the couple were childhood sweethearts, Bossie and Robert's father took turns driving them everywhere, and eventually to college. Now the two sets of grandparents take turns vacationing so somebody is always around to help.

The real stage mom. If she didn't need a paying job, she could be a stage mom forever.

Sharon Lockley, 44, an accountant for the City of Baltimore, was the first to travel to Branson, as she was last year, to get her son settled and organize things for those to follow; she stayed 17 days. "The Point Person," the company manager calls her. She set up the schedule with other parents to take the children to school each morning. Wherever there's a "Sharon" on the schedule, a Lockley fills in. She bought groceries for the condo where Brett and relatives stay and picked up keys, car and parking permit.

She was as anxious as Brett to meet the two new girls who would be paired with Brett and the other boy, Mark. She loves it out there, the people, the backstage and the awe she feels each time she sees her son perform. She was in the drama club and chorus at Northwestern High School, but she wouldn't dream of going as far as Brett. She's practical. She wanted to earn a living, and she enjoyed numbers.

Sharon speaks to Brett every other day. He's not as homesick as he was last year, when he left his new middle school classmates just as they began bonding.

How a mom who audits Baltimore's budget and a dad who settles insurance claims can produce a dancer -- two, actually; Brett's older brother, Eric, 17, hopes to be an actor -- is a story of appreciating gifts.

She and her husband enjoy the arts, Sharon says, and their sons have a God-given talent. "They were a gift to us, and we could nurture that gift."

She hit the ground running when her shift in Branson was over. Back in Baltimore, Eric was steeped in college applications and playing the bad guy in Brigadoon at the Carver Center for the Arts in Towson.

"I could be a stage mom forever," she says.

Stage dad. When his son didn't seem interested in football or baseball, he gave in and went along for the ride.

Robert Lockley, 45, a senior claims adjuster for Progressive Insurance, knew Eric had talent when he danced an amazing beat to "Rock Steady" by the Whispers while in diapers. But to have two sons who could dance, well, that was a surprise.

The surprise was greater, given how Brett's talent revealed itself. He was allowed to sit on the stage at Eric's dance school and watch from the age of 2. Offered the chance to dance himself at age 5, Brett declined; he didn't want to join, only watch. (His father wonders now if he didn't want to crowd Eric.) The Lockleys took Brett to shows -- Michael Jackson was hot -- but got no reaction, though when they saw Brett re-create the dance steps at home they realized the whole thing was in his head.

One day when Brett was 8 and Eric was rehearsing for The Nutcracker, Robert went to pick up the boys at dance school and Brett ran over to say he, too, was going to be in the show. "I said, 'How? You're not even in the school!' " the father recalls.

But once Brett put on the soldier costume the school owner handed him, he knew every step. He excelled after that, winning competitions to perform at Disney World, on cruise ships and, last summer, to study at the Pennsylvania Ballet's Rock School in Philadelphia for six weeks. Robert let him go for three.

Robert, who played football and ran track for Northwestern, tried to interest Brett in baseball -- he coached the team himself -- and football. But after two seasons, he knew his son wasn't interested. He began to follow his child's passion. Now, he says, "it's just a joy to see all that goes on."

Robert's tour in Branson followed Sharon's, so one parent could remain with Eric. The first year his wife was gone, Robert was flooded with relatives' dinner invitations. This year, nobody's called. It's cereal or frozen entrees for dinner. So far, Eric is not complaining.

Dad isn't, either. "Both of our kids have taken us places."

Stage grandmother on the mom's side. Did she miss her calling?

Loretta Davis, 65, is again taking vacation from her job as accounting assistant in the Baltimore purchasing office to spend a week with Brett, but on one condition.

Her week with him last year was the first time she'd ever been away from her husband, Bossie. She has no problem driving, and she'd do anything for her grandson; between her and her husband, they have seen all his performances. But the switch-off in Branson, when she had to drive her daughter to the airport an hour away, was terrifying.

Her confidence was restored the first few nights, when she was driving home after rehearsal along dark and hilly roads, because Brett knew the route -- until she looked over and saw him nodding off. "Please, Brett. Brett, wake up and don't go to sleep on me," she pleaded, and he did wake up, and they got home but ...

The deal she struck this year is for Bossie, who has been out and back already, to accompany her. "We are going together so I won't have to drive!"

She couldn't not return and miss the excitement and deny her grandson, she says. Besides, being backstage at a big show for the first time unearthed memories, memories of herself in third grade, when she played the wife of the giant in Jack and the Beanstalk. She trembled all over, she recalls, but it was so much fun. "Maybe I missed my calling."

Stage grandparents, paternal. If only they could be kids again!

Robert and Alease Lockley, 75 and 72 respectively, are retired, and they drove the 921 miles to Branson again this year. They'll stay two weeks, including Thanksgiving, and, if needed, they'll happily return to do Brett's laundry and get him to class on time.

There was Brett's well-being to consider -- they are so proud of him -- and their own curiosity. How does a theater work? "As the audience, we see the glamour. When you're sitting backstage, you see all the hard work," Alease says. Every day last year, they watched the Rockettes get made up, elves run for a change of costume, and mothers of the two girls put up their hair in rollers. Then they'd watch the show in the theater.

If boredom struck, they played pinochle or watched TV or, when other parents relieved them, escaped to shop.

Giving up their places on the bowling team was a small sacrifice for the fun they have. Christmas in Branson is awesome, they say, with millions of lights on stores and hotels and Silver Dollar City, the amusement park, and the train ride through a forest and a Christmas tree eight stories tall. "It was like being a little kid again," Alease says.

At first, the Lockleys did not want their grandson to leave school for two months, but once Alease saw the tutor working with him, she felt relieved. Of course, he did well. He's an honor student.

Twice a week when she's not with her grandson, Alease calls him; it's another way she maintains family ties. In her day, she gathered her children around the dinner table every Sunday. Times are different. Brett has been dancing five years and Eric 13 years, and except for the cruise, the Lockleys haven't missed a show.

The stage godmother, make that Fairy Godmother. When Brett needed friends, she waved her magic wand.

Sherrin Stokes-Fowlkes, 45, was between jobs last year when Brett won the role, and his parents asked for her support. With no kids -- just Sherrin and her husband -- she was an easy target. Of course she would spend a week with her godson!

It was a good thing, too, because when she arrived in Branson, Brett was missing his mom real bad. She relished the roles of chief comforter and stage mom, of being introduced as the latest Lockley, and meeting the most amazing people. "I got to meet farmers who take the day off once a year, come to Branson and see four different shows, then run back and take care of the cows," she recalls.

She saw all of Brett's shows last year and was never bored; it was different with each audience. The experience was so powerful she wanted to share it. Plus, there was Brett's homesickness and his admiring classmates at Deve's Christian School of Ballet and Tap in Randallstown to consider. A part-time travel agent, Sherrin hired a bus and put up fliers advertising a trip to see him.

In the end, 24 people, including Brett's best friend, members of his church, New Psalmist Baptist, family and co-workers of Sharon and Robert made the nine-hour journey. They watched Christmas movies and won Christmas trinkets in pop quizzes. They arrived for Christmas dinner. The ultimate ending? The Christmas Spectacular.

Sherrin has a job this year, investigating people for government agencies, so she can't take off a week. But she's trying hard to get to Phoenix for a weekend. "He's wonderful in the show," she says of Brett. "You wouldn't believe it until you see it."

The stage uncle. Somebody has to play the bad guy.

When Wayne Lockley, 47, a recently retired Navy pilot, heard from his younger brother, Robert, last year that his nephew hoped to join the traveling Christmas show, the first thing he asked about was the date of the move.

He was the best choice to stay with Brett during the show's move from Branson to Cincinnati, Wayne figured, because in 23 years with the Navy, he had moved plenty. "That week would be ideal for me compared with some of the others," he said.

It helped that his daughter's high school soccer season was finished, and his wife, a teacher, was accustomed to his being away. With 30 days' annual leave from the military, he could spare five days for Brett. They are close; every time he speaks to his brother, he speaks to his nephews.

He flew an F-18 part-way, to Dallas, where he had Navy business, before boarding a commercial flight to Branson. After that, it was boring. Very boring. He hung out in the Green Room, where performers relax, with movies or books and stretched his legs. Every day, he saw one show and during the other, he read airplane operating manuals.

Brett is so independent that Wayne didn't have much to do until the opening-night cast party in Cincinnati. It was scheduled to go on until 3 in the morning, and Brett didn't want to leave. He was a kid, in a smoke-filled bar. Wayne knew he had to put his foot down. He dragged the boy home at 1 a.m.

Admittedly, arriving in Cincinnati was cause to celebrate. The overnight bus ride from Branson lasted 16 hours.

But it hasn't stopped Wayne from volunteering to move Brett again. He enjoys meeting people, and this year he's taking a camera so he can shoot outdoor light displays at night.

Besides, when the cast moves to Phoenix, they're flying!

The stage aunt. A one-time ballerina. She introduced the boys to dance.

Debbie Lockley, Robert's other sibling, was an early influence on Brett's development. She danced until she turned 18 at the Peabody Conservatory, and she told her brother, Brett's father, about a tap dancing school when her older nephew was 2.

She's the mother of a toddler herself now and business manager of a company that makes cast-iron brake shoes for freight trains. She's also a newcomer to the Lockley rotation. Last year, she didn't want to leave her young son and lacked a babysitter anyway -- her parents, the senior Lockleys, often travel.

"We are very close," says Debbie, 38, of her nephew. "Being young -- he thinks I am a teen-ager-- it will be like hanging out with his teen-age aunt."

Ordinarily, she takes him ice skating, bowling and to the movies. "I ice skate," she says. "We do that together, have since he was young."

She feels his absence every Wednesday when she drops her son at Brett's parents on her way to bowling. "I miss him," she says.

Debbie flies to Phoenix next week.

Like those before her, she'll discover that the changing of the Lockley guard begins with getting keys and expense money. Then, she'll be introduced to waiters in the Olive Garden, a favorite with Brett for its appetizers, and, eventually, she'll ask the show's director for her employee discount card.

She, too, might cozy up in the Green Room, meet the cast, and master the drive to the airport, where the handoff includes a big hug from Brett, who thinks he is the luckiest guy in the world. "I am grateful for everybody who can come and do this," he said on the October day he packed his bags. "It is a long period of time, and it shows their support for what I want to do."

Indeed, the supporting cast appears critical. Rarely mentioned in a review, this one gets some kind words from company manager Floyd Williams:

He wishes Brett's mom and dad could stay the whole time; they are so wonderful, and Bossie, well, Bossie "is so much fun. We all love Bossie."

His greatest fear is that he will forget the current Lockley's name -- this while keeping track of 55 cast members, the Rockettes and three mothers, no problem. But the constant rotation of people from this "wonderful family keeps it fresh," he says -- and leaves him jealous.

In Branson, Williams says, "the consensus is that Brett has the best family you could ever hope for."