Friends in Low Places

Sometimes I toss Char a joke, and she runs with it to parts unknown. Here's an example.

We went shopping on Saturday, and the back of Daphne's car was filling up with all the super-sized items we bought at Costco. To make room, I took the package of 30 toilet paper rolls and placed it in the seat next to Char. I told her, "On the way home you get to sit next to Toilet Paper Man!"

She smiled and giggled. Then Char started talking about Toilet Paper Man. All the way home she told us about the things he likes to do: shop at the store, run at the park, play at the zoo, and he especially likes to get his haircut. She created a voice for him, and had him answer her questions.

"Am I your new friend Toilet Paper Man?" she asked the plastic wrap.
"Yes Charlotte," Char lowered her voice and shook the bag with her hand, "You are my best friend!"

After a 20-minute drive, I thought Char would be tired of Toilet Paper Man, but as soon as we brought him in, she wanted to start working on his haircut. I had no clue what she meant.

She first requested colored paper, which she cut into strips. "I loooove to cut paper!" Char sang as she worked the scissors. Char then asked if would I help her tape the strips onto Toilet Paper Man's head. "Don't forget the sides," she crooned.

Soon it was time for his haircut.

"Doesn't he look good?"

Char gave Toilet Paper Man a face, and then slicked him up with some stickers. Later in the evening she brought him down into the basement. She didn't want him to miss "movie night" with the family. He even has his own chair.

 Has a package of toilet paper ever been so loved? I doubt it. I think that smile is actually real.  

When we walked upstairs to put Char to bed, I thought I heard Toilet Paper Man whisper in the dark, "Thank you, Charlotte... I never thought I'd find a friend."

I Shall Call Her... Mini-Me

It's weird. Every so often I'll put out clothes for myself, and then I can't find them.

What's it like to be the parent of "that kid"?

The Christmas program was this morning, and it started out okay. Char just needed a little help to find her spot in the front of the church.

When she got up there, she seemed pretty happy. She's third from the left. And look at those cute sheep!

But then Angel #5 noticed that the audience was bigger than just Mom and Dad, and Angel #5 got a bad case of stage fright.

At first she played with her halo and turned her back on everyone. I believe this is called an "avoidance technique".

Later, a high school helper had to lead her to where she was supposed to stand with the other angels, but she wouldn't face the audience. That's when she felt "tired".

She did say her line, "Me, too!" And she's pretty easy to understand.

So, what's it's like being the parent of "that kid"?

The initial, honest answer is that you're embarrassed. No one wants their child rolling around on the ground while the other kids are belting out "Silent Night". Also, the tension in your body makes your back hurt.

Then you feel helpless. Since she can't hear you whisper, "C'mon, get up!" from where you are sitting, and mental telepathy doesn't work, you can't correct her behavior. You also can't storm up to front of the church and grab your child. That would only make things worse. Plus, you'd really throw out your back.

Next on the emotional list is guilt. Charlotte doesn't behave like this on a normal day, and she's obviously scared, and very stressed. Since she didn't beg to be in this position, it feels like I forced her up there.

And then there's relief. You're relieved when it's all over, and your angel with dirty wings runs over and says, "Dad! I talked into the microphone!" And it helps that your back has stopped throbbing, too.

In the end, you realize that if this is the worse thing your happy and healthy daughter does today, you're a blessed person, indeed. So many people out there wish they could have your "problems".

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When was the last time you saw an altar railing turned into a ballet barre?

I suppose every parent gets the opportunity to helplessly watch and cringe while their child performs in front of an audience. Yesterday I got mine.

A few days ago we found out that Char's Sunday School Choir would be singing "Peace Like a River" at the front of the church this weekend. Because we've been so busy moving, this was only going to be Charlotte's second week with her Sunday School class. Since she takes awhile to warm up to new situations, I'll have to admit I was a bit worried.

I was guessing this would go one of three ways:

1. Char would refuse to enter the church with her choir, and she's have a tearful breakdown in the narthex.
2. Char would see us in the audience, and she'd run from the choir to the safety of our pew.
3. Char would belt out the lyrics like she does when she's practicing at home with mom.

But none of those scenarios took place. Charlotte had other plans. These plans included dancing, "twisting my dress like a hula hoop!" and showing off her ballet moves at the end of the song.

I'd tell you which one is my girl, but I think you'll be able to pick her out.

Oh, man. That's quite a finish. 

Every time that dress flipped, so did my stomach, but Daphne and I were also laughing hard. 

Makes me fearful fr the Christmas program, though.