"What? You have to be there at 7:15? This concert doesn't start until 7:30 PM? But... but that's so late! We probably won't get out of there until 8:30!"
*Adelaide rolls eyes, wrestles internally over whether or not she should dignify her mother's histrionics with a response*
*Her mother writes a blog post, shrewdly guessing at Daughter's internal monologue*
*Adelaide reads all this at school, gets yet another chance to roll her eyes at her mother*
And now you're up to the present.
But going back to last night, after Adelaide came downstairs, dressed and ready, Derek kept observing how grown up she looked. He said this in an unemotional, here-is-a-fact kind of way; this did not stop me from growing increasingly emotional each time he said it until I wailed, "Stop!" because he was right. She did look grown up.
We arrived at the concert early, as Adelaide had given us very specific instructions on where she wanted us to sit, and if you want to be in the front two rows, you have to get ahead of a couple hundred people to secure your seats. We sat right where she wanted us to, which turned out to be nice, as she saw us and we saw her and I got to take pictures of a bunch of my friends' kids to send to them.
There were cute little presentations between each song, and one of my favorites was two boys pretending to be reindeer telling each other really terrible jokes.
Two reasons these jokes were the best: First, Daughter's face.
She is in the center, there, in the red. She made this face every time a corny joke was told. Everyone in the auditorium was chuckling. Adelaide was wearing the expression she has when she feels one ought to know better than to do something, but don't worry, she'll just be embarrassed for you.
The other reason these jokes were the best is that for us in the second row, they were in stereo: the family of one of the reindeer comedians was sitting right behind us, and apparently he had been practicing these jokes frequently in their home to prepare for the big night. His little brother was directly behind me, and recited each joke, word perfect, along with his big brother up on the stage. It was hysterical.
Atticus did not share in his sister's reservations; he enjoyed every groan-worthy punch line.
Adelaide also had a small speaking role.
She performed it admirably, and looked so grown up! *keens*
Our children are in three more winter concerts in the next two weeks. By my calculations (meaning I've looked at all their song lists), we'll have heard large groups of children sing Over the River and Through the Woods four times by Christmas day. If you find me wandering the aisles of our grocery store, repeatedly muttering, "The horse knows the way to carry the sleigh, the horse knows the way to carry the sleigh," while my left eye tic rages, don't worry, it's just because I have listened to these darlings of ours debate whether it's "over the river and through the wood," singular, or "over the river and through the woods," plural, ONE MILLION TIMES in the past month. Happy holidays, indeed.