Yesterday at church we had a special musical number during Sacrament meeting. Not just any ordinary special musical number, either. It was truly special.
Because it was my kids. And my husband. Also, the Bishop and his two daughters, Chloe and Brianna (I did not make that up. That is true fact. Yes, we had Chloe, Chloe, Bria and Brianna singing. But the Bishop's name is not Joel, just in case you were wondering.) They sang "A Child's Prayer," and it had the congregation in tears, I understand. I'm not really sure, since I was stuck playing the piano and didn't really get to see it. Or hear it, for that matter.
Bria hasn't been too hip on the whole idea for the entire two weeks we knew about it. In fact, during the times we rehearsed she would stand in the furthest possible corner from the piano and just look traumatized. I told her she didn't have to sing if she didn't want to, but just in case she thought she might, I bribed her with ice cream anyway.
Well, she agreed to sing (cue the Hallelujah Chorus here), but she had some terms. As she was getting out of the car to go into church she said, "I will sing but you are not allowed to be proud of me, or smile at me, or give me any compliments." I gave her my word, and so did Joel. Absolutely no smiling, complimenting, or being proud. She reminded me of the agreement in a fierce whisper that I'm sure the entire congregation heard as we all came down from the stand after it was all over: "Don't smile, Mom!"
But, I needed no reminders because I lived up to my word. After Sacrament meeting was over, I turned to Bria and said, "Thank you for singing. I'm not proud of you and I won't tell you that you did a good job," with the straightest, non-smilingest visage I could muster.
A strange look crossed her face, she thought for a moment and finally answered, "Well.....you can be proud of me. Just NO compliments."
I'll take what I can get.