Another "Last"
Between sisters being checked for head lice, a confirmed case of whopping cough, and numerous phone calls and requests for envelopes, mailings, baby-sitting, etc., I finished an hour and fifteen at the school office before leaving early for Ditto.
Volunteer appreciation lunch, including Chick-Fil-A catering and ten dollar gift certificate. I put it to good use on a half-wardrobe cedar-lined dresser for Puck’s room, like something out of the 60s.
Great Harvest and school wrapped up my morning and early afternoon, catching Puck before he tried to slide down the railing to the parking lot. Again.
We had about 45 minutes at the Big House for Puck to finish his homework before we piled in three cars for the evening festivities. I told Puck to run downstairs and find a book for his reading assignment.
“Here!” he announced, holding up a fat version of ‘Little Women’, and sat down to read on the couch. “Meg … blah, blah, blah … I’m not reading this.”
He tried again. This time he ran upstairs with one of Rose’s old beat-up copies of “Harry Potter”.
“PETER PAN AND THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS!”
I think he finally settled on Curious George.
Less than an hour for dinner at Steak ‘n Shake: Mom, myself and Puck, Carrie-Bri, Francis, and Linnea-Irish. Grandma, Dad, and Rose later joined us at the next destination, after Grandma succumbed to a flat on the drive in.
So, for Linnea’s very last – and the Snicketts’ very last, for that matter – Christmas choir performance, she marched across the stage in her black gown and three inch heels – don’t know how she stands up there like that for so long – and confidently took her place in the top row of altos. Hence the three-inch lace-up heels.
During one of the pieces, Grandma leaned over to me. “Collette, I just can’t make her out up there. Where is she?”
“Top row. Five over from the right.”
A moment later, Grandma gasped. “She’s beautiful! Oh my! Oh my … you girls really did some work on her!”
She did look pretty cute up there, I have to admit.
During a particularly quiet lull between songs, Grandma leaned over to Dad and whispered loudly, “Where’s my little Linnea?”
Dad began to point her out on the top row again.
“No, I know,” Grandma cut him off. “But that’s not my little Linnea. She’s beautiful!”
I’m pretty sure all of ten rows forward heard that one.