Chorus night

My chorus is getting ready to head to regional competition in Boise in April, so our director, Ryan, is loading up on the coaching sessions. Thankfully they're on weeknights instead of Friday night and all day Saturday. Drew happens to be in Seattle this Thursday, Friday AND Saturday (yuck), so I hauled Rachel to a coaching session tonight. Rehearsal was at a funeral home near our house -- for some reason, the church in which we practice wasn't available -- so I was able to race home from preschool, heat up some chicken and potatoes and we ate a quick dinner before heading to practice. Rachel has learned the "Quiet Game," where we make a zipping motion with our fingers across our lips to signal no talking. She insisted we do that during dinner, and it must have helped, we got to chorus with five minutes to spare.

I brought Rachel's nightie and sleeping bag just in case she wanted to follow the lead of another kid there, the son of one of our prospective members, who brings his toys and sleeping bag to rehearsal every week; I'm guessing he's the son of a single mom. She sat very quietly in the front, paging through her books and occasionally looking up and smiling at me. We blew kisses at each other whenever Ryan wasn't looking. Although I loved having her there, it was so distracting! All I wanted to do was grab her and cuddle her in my lap, but I had to concentrate on every single bloody phrase and every single bloody move of a song I'm really sick of. Arghh....

Rehearsal began at 7:45 and we left at 9:10, and Rachel got to bed at 9:45 so it all worked out. She will either grow up with barbershop in her blood, or loathe singing the rest of her life.

Rachel-isms from today:

"I can't eat one more bit without a hug, or I'll starve to death!" Rachel announced as we were eating dinner in a rare break from the Quiet Game. After she hugged and kissed me she said, "Ahh...now THAT'S refreshment! For my eating process."

***

We talked a little bit about Barbies as I was kissing her goodnight. She wonders if Grandma has kept any of my toys, and I said she'd have to ask her when we go back East for Passover (I'm buying plane tickets tomorrow). I told her I had the Barbie Beach Bus, Barbie, and a lot of her clothes.

"Mommy?" Rachel asked. "Why did you like Barbies?"
"Oh, I don't know," I replied. "Most girls like Barbies."
"You don't have to like Barbies to fit in, you know," Rachel said, a touch of asperity in her voice. "You just have to be yourself!"

I have no idea where she gets this from.