We survived the museum experience. I was so proud of my non-public speaker for putting together his speech, and performing so well. While he didn't get "chosen" to represent the school as his hero, he did get chosen for the honor choir that sings at the district-wide assembly next week.
Monday an envelope came home with the sheet music, and a CD. He went upstairs to practice, and was doing okay until he saw the last song.
"Mom, we've worked on all this music in class except Dreamer. How can I do a song we haven't sung in choir?"
"That's why they sent home the CD. You'll do fine, as long as you practice and get it memorized on time."
"But we haven't worked on it in choir."
"Kid, that's why it's called an honor choir. Honors require extra effort."
"Okay." Upstairs he goes.
On to yesterday:
"So have you practiced?"
"Yes mom." In that bored, know it all, adolescent voice....
"How's the memorizing going?"
"Um, well..."
"You only have a week!"
"I know." He slinks upstairs to practice some more. That's the beauty of music. You know when they're doing what they're supposed to because you can hear it. I wish I could hear chimes chimes when kids do their math homework.
It's good he's learning this now. It will hopefully save us both grief later.
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