After-School Concert

It was a grim, stressful day. Not enough sun, temperatures far too frigid, kids crazy, report cards looming, marking pile threatening to fall over and smother me. And an EQAO meeting after school, as if there wasn't enough on the old plate.

When I got home, there was no sign of hubby or Spills. So I took my bad mood up for a quick bubble bath. By the end of it--and a hair wash--I was ready to face the world again.

I heard the door open, and voices in the hallway. As I headed downstairs, I could hear Spills saying, "But why isn't Mommy HERE?"

"She'll be here soon," her daddy told her.

"Until she gets here, I'm going to pretend I have an imaginary Mommy," Spills was saying gloomily. At that moment, I leapt out into view.

"MOMMY!" my kid shrieked. There were many hugs. Then she added, "You look like Sanjaya."

"I do? Really?"

"You have a hat like him. Can I wear it now?"

I still was wearing the towel around my head from my hair-wash. "Well, it's drying my hair right now, so I don't think you should," I said.

"When you're done, can I?"

"Maybe we'll get you a dry one right now."

Moments later, we were on my bed, and she was dressed in full princess regalia (gown, slippers, scepter), with a towel wrapped around her head.

"And now I'm going to do a concert for you."

"Great!" I said, perched against the pillows.

She left the room. A great silence followed. Then she burst through the door, singing the entire song, "Ain't no mountain high enough..." It went on and on. It involved elaborate dance moves.
At the end, she began to climb onto the bed. I clapped enthusiastically.

"Mommy! I'm NOT DONE YET. I'm just climbing up the mountain."

"Oh, sorry," I said.

"But it's not high enough. DON'T LAUGH."

Sweet, Sweet Music....

Today I got to chaperone a middle school dance. If you offered me the choice between being repeatedly clubbed in the head or chaperoning a middle school dance, I would be hard-pressed to choose (but the clubbing might have a slight edge). At least my tour of duty was only an hour long; but by the end of it, my head was pounding, and my eyes were sore from squinting through near-total darkness in the school gym (there were some laser-y kinds of things dancing around the ceiling, but they didn't provide much illumination to those of us below).

Spilly enjoyed some music today too. She attends a little music class on Fridays with her friend Robbie. Today was extra-special, apparently. She told her Daddy afterward, "There's a new boy in our class!"

"Oh?" said her Daddy. "What's his name?"

"Mr. Fantastic!"

Daddy was slightly taken aback. "What's his real name?" he asked.

Spilly glared at him. "Mister. Fan. Tas. Tic."

"Did you see Mr. Fantastic?" I asked Daddy later.

"I actually did, for a minute."

"And did he look fantastic?"

"Well--kind of," said Daddy, after thinking about it.

Sounds like Robbie, Spilly's current main squeeze, is going to have a run for his money.