Oh this one. Not a day goes by where she doesn’t make me laugh out loud or swell with pride. Some days both combined. She has a knack for saying the most deliciously absurd things, and as disarming as it might be sometimes, I love that it’s a part of our lives.
She had her Christmas concert this past week and was a bundle of nerves and excitement. As we pulled into the parking lot, she started rattling off a flurry of instructions.
“You have to drop me off in the basement. By myself. You can’t stay there. You go upstairs. And then later you can come and get me downstairs. We’re singing two songs. I’ll see you later. Nick, this is church, you have to be quiet.”
Too much.
We dropped her off in the church basement, as dutifully instructed, and went upstairs to find a good seat. This is the first year that this particular school has had a full-day pre-K program, so it was also the first year that pre-K was able to participate in the Christmas concert.
They sang two songs from the front, and from my seat, I watched Madeline’s every movement. She sang every word, did every hand motion on cue, all the while keeping an eye on me to make sure I was watching. As they were led to the back of the church after their two songs, she walked past me, trying her very best to remain completely composed, but stifling the biggest smile ever. I reached out my hand and she hit it with triumph and glee.
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