I feel extreme guilt for not keeping up the recommended two-entries-per-week blogging. Well, if anybody ever read/is still reading, my deepest apologies. So I'm now doing yet another taboo--writing in here when I have nothing to say. Well, nothing terribly clever. Let's face it. I just don't have the energy to be riveting ALL the time.
My son had his first Christmas program last night. Unbelievable. Preschools have Christmas programs. My husband and I found ourselves entering that bizarre vortex that we used to mock: The school-program-audience proud parent. Yes, there we were. I with my digital camera and he with the antiquated video camera recording for posterity every grimace, wiggle, nose pick, and raspberry that emitted from our darling budding performer. And there were plenty. They had the "4's" class performing alongside the "3's," which was a good thing because they seemed to be the equalizing force on the stage. Amazing what a difference one year can make. It gave me hope.
My son even had an impromptu solo, well sort of a recitative. After performing one song, as all the 3's proudly applauded themselves (which they did after every song) for the remarkable feat of not wetting themselves while singing "Away in a Manger," my son waited until the clapping died down, at which time he said in a loud voice, "I can clap reallllyyy hard, see?" and then proceeded to demonstrate just how loudly he could congratulate himself. Ahhhhh. Proud moment.
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