Ah, tradition

We attended our daughter's winter concert yesterday (fifth year in a row!). This year, the school split things up a bit differently. Apparently they had access to two music teachers, so they held two concerts - one with the younger kids performing and one with the third, fourth, and fifth graders performing. I guess my daughter is an upperclassman now.

P and I arrived at the concert at about the same time (both drove straight from work) and found seats in the cafe-gym-e-teria. The third graders were up first.  They filed in and arranged themselves on the risers. As usual, our kid was in the front because she is short. See, there are benefits to being petite! She was wearing her new Christmas dress and a Santa hat. First they sang a song called "Earthlings Unite." It was a little odd, if I'm being honest.  The kids were doing some sort of hand gestures, but our kid wasn't doing them. I even tried to catch her eye and do the hand gestures myself.  (Sort of like sign language to say, "Why aren't you doing this?") The second song was "We Will Jingle" to the tune of "We Will Rock You."  We will, we will, JINGLE!  You'll have that stuck in your head for the rest of the day. You're welcome!  On this song, our kid did the corresponding hand claps . . . sort of.

And then, the third graders were done. They filed off the stage.  We then listened to the fourth and fifth graders sing their songs.  There was some sort of reindeer dance on the floor in front of the stage but I couldn't really see it from where I was sitting. As an added bonus, some beginning band students played a couple of songs. It was brutal, just brutal. But hey, you gotta start somewhere, right?  And those kids are one up on me if they can read music. I sure can't, as anyone who has stood near me in church during a hymn-sing can attest.

The music teacher thanked everyone, the principal thanked everyone, and that was about it.  The new (very cute, very energetic) music teacher is, as far as I could tell, about 15. I figured she probably needed to finish up so that she could get back over to the high school in time for fifth period.

Later in the evening, I took the kid over to a local museum that was holding a kids-only Christmas shop. I've taken her there in the past.  They also have lots of window displays full of old-school Christmas decorations, so it's fun to poke around in the museum at this time of year.  We found the kids' shop and got in line.  They actually have a whole store set up with a tiny little door that kids pass through to get in.  Then a helper guides them through and wraps the gifts for them. No parents are allowed in the shop.  A volunteer handed us an envelope containing four gift tags. Gifts in the store were $3.00 each, with four gifts being the maximum a kid could buy (although they could go back through the line again if they wanted to).  The shop did not take debit cards or checks. Crud. I looked in my wallet. I had exactly $12.00 in cash.  I handed it over to my daughter.

I told her I would help her fill out the four gift tags. She just needed to tell me who the four recipients were. "Who's first?" I asked.

"Meemaw."  Okay, gift number one was going to my mom. I filled out the tag and asked the kid about the second gift.

"Ummmm," she paused.  "Grandpa Ted!"  I filled out the tag.  Two down, two to go.

"Daddy. The next one is for Daddy."  Okay, sounds good.  At this point, I need to remind you that I had given my child every dollar from my wallet. Every dollar. My wallet was now barren and sad.  Who, oh who, would receive the fourth gift?

She paused and then named one of her cousins. Alrighty then. 

I browsed in the museum's regular gift shop while the kid was in the short people shop. I picked up a few stocking stuffers and hid them in my purse. Then, when she was done shopping, I had to carry the four not-for-me gifts around the entire museum while she played and ran around.

Ah, tradition.

Drawing a picture for Santa. She "knows" but, you know .  . . it doesn't hurt to suck up anyway.


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