It Ain't Over Till...

Tonight, we had tears, but not about the play. I've been anticipating and fearing having to tell TinyTuna about some changes that are going to affect her well-crafted world. GramTuna has taken a job as a church musician at a different church. So tonight, after buying a new pair of ballet slippers and tap shoes for the ever growing TinyTuna, we went across the street to have some ice cream. I told TinyTuna. She burst into tears. *sigh* Alot of tears. I knew she'd be upset, but I wasn't expecting this much angst. In mid-sob she snuffles "I don't like change when it happens to my own family!" Poor kid.

An interesting sidebar -- when she calmed herself down, the first question she asked was if the pottery painting store (across the street) was still open. "Why?" I ask. "I want to paint Gram a tile," she snuffles. We didn't go paint because it was late, but I thought it was interesting that she wanted to turn to art as therapy. TinyTuna will be OK. I told her if she was sad, she should tell me so I could give her a hug. I told her if I was sad, I was going to tell her so she could give me a hug. We made a deal to take care of each other. It was a decent solution to a crappy problem that's been occupying much of my life over the past month.

We walk back to the car, and I tell TinyTuna I have something else to tell her. She eyes me warily and says, "Good news or bad news?" "Good news" I tell her. Our church is going to do the opera "Amahl and the Night Visitors" this December. I've sung it, hrmmm, at least twice before. Anyway, they want TinyTuna to sing the role of Amahl, and I'll sing the role of the mother. Well, she's hesitant. For about thirty seconds. "I'll do it!" she announces. I figured as much.

Home we go. I can't find my score. It must be up north with most of my music. I hope it is, anyway. We decide to sit down and watch the tape of the opera. She saw it live last December. It was the one and only time she's ever seen it or heard it. This kid has an iron clad memory. She remembers much of the music. She certainly remembers the plot. So we watch the movie together, and she seems pretty excited.

Now it's past bedtime, but GramTuna and I say "One Short Story". TinyTuna starts bargaining. Can she read one from her 6-from-Seuss books? No, says I. Too long. Can she read two stories? No, says I. Please? No, says I. Can I.... NO! Says I. Pick one now, or no stories period. She grabs a story. We're snuggled in bed and ready. Our story? "Tacky and the Emperor". Keep in mind, Tacky is a penguin who wears loud Hawaiian shirts, and yells "What's Happenin!!!??" He lives with Goodly, Neatly, Angel, Lovely and Perfect. Of course, Tacky doesn't fit in, but they always agree at the end "he's a nice bird to have around." I heart Tacky in a big way. So, Tacky and the Emperor. TinyTuna opens the book, and starts singing. The book. Operatically. I am now absolutely doubled over in laughter with tears running down my face. GramTuna is in hysterics as well, and TinyTuna is just singing and singing this book at the top of her lungs. Someone earlier tonight asked me "....she sang it to the tune of what?" Let me tell you. She sang it to the tune of I'm-making-it-up-as-I-go-along that lasted for some 20-odd minutes. It was great. It had Allegros, Adagios, major keys, minor keys...the whole deal. While I'm trying to regain some sort of normal breathing pattern, all I can think is ... I have the weirdest house in the universe . How many kids are channeling Maria Callas while turning their bedtime story into an original operatic composition? For my kid though, this behavior is practically normal.

Oy and Veh. And I thought I was a weird kid when I climbed into our backyard tree so I could sing without anybody bugging me. I got nothing on TinyTuna -- not by a mile. I'm telling you all though, if her next audition is successful (Annie -- heaven help me), I'll be writing these posts from the loony bin. It's Tuesday already, which means it's a teaching day. I gotta bolt and get some sleep.