Recommended by Philip Middleton Williams

Rene Zabel touches us with this kaleidoscope of memories as she watches her son grow up in four pages of images, echoes, and touching moments of joy and trepidation that I am sure every parent has felt at some time or another.

You don't have to be a fan of "Schitt's Creek" to appreciate the deadpan levity of this short play that pays humorous homage to the character that Daniel Levy played on the show. His treatment of Gary, the fashion-challenged screenwriter, sends up the perception of what's really important in making a film: it's not the story that matters after all. Tom David Barna's touch is both sharp and gentle, and the characters draw you in to the story. Enjoy the cappuccino, too.

There is always a glimpse of truth in fairy tales, but through the passage of time as well as the various iterations and commercialization, they lose something. Perhaps it's the moral behind the parable or even the fascination of believing in magic and mystery, but the heart of the story remains. In this no-nonsense look behind the gauzy Technicolor animation of a favorite tale, we find the real story of family strife and sibling rivalry, wood-warts and all. It's crafty, meaningful, and liberating.

Is there a more fraught time in life than adolescence when conformity and peer pressure is the lifeblood of existence, even when our hormones and our very body is itself in full-scale rebellion? Poor Brian James is doing his best to fit in to everything: high school, his classmates' cliques, even his jeans. And then there's Erin Bonesteel, his confidante/counterpoint, the one who might get him out of Heartbreak Hotel. John Patrick Bray has such a masterful touch with these moments that you can't help falling in love.

This piece hit close to home for me, and Dana Hall hits every nuance of dealing with grief in its many forms. The interaction between parent and child is deeply explored without being maudlin, and gives us a glimpse of the relationship over their lives in this moment. Perhaps it hit me hardest because I'm dealing with the same situation in my family, but Dana Hall's play is for all of us.

The trope "It's funny because it's true" seems to be proven in this darkly hilarious tale of a parent having concerns about a certain science project. Having been a teacher and watched with fascinating horror as some parents take over the science fair and observe the response from the administration, John Busser's short two-hander is a lot closer to reality than you'd hope to think. His characters and their interaction is pure gold.

I honestly believe that Peter Sellers would produce this play and find a way to star in it and perhaps play several roles. It's a satire of epic proportions told at a lightning pace and nails every cliche of the Hollywood spy thriller, using everything from Marx Brothers-style dialogue to Chaplinesque stage movement and a well-deserved poke at the way foreign policy and war-mongering wags the dog. I stopped counting the references, real or implied, and just let the characters have their fun. Maximillian Gill's skills as both a writer and observer of humanity are amazing.

There is so much said in this casual, almost genial recollection of how this girl -- now all grown up -- got this scar. It is the one that lingers beyond all the others because it never really healed. The family dynamic is told concisely in this moment of grown-over tissue that doesn't go for the trauma and the fear, but the matter-of-fact way that says so much by telling us just enough.

We're familiar with the butterfly effect: a small action somewhere leads to world-shaking results. In this taut and tightly-scripted tale of unintended consequences, DC Cathro takes a simple action by a father with his infant daughter and is shocked by her response. What unfolds after that is more than just butterfly wings; it is pulling the bottom jenga piece or putting the last snowflake on the hillside that causes the avalanche, and Brenda and Mike are left to deal with the aftermath.

The lengths that some people will go to to achieve what they perceive to be fame can bring out unknown -- and scary -- qualities. In this darkly comic, cringe-inducing look at the draw of so-called "reality TV," Suzanne Bronson brings out the id of her characters in ways that echo the rawness of Sam Shepard. This isn't told as satire; to do so would miss the point. The characters are not caricatures, and their motives are no more craven than anyone else. But when someone says they'll kill for their fifteen minutes of fame, believe it.