27 April 2011

Of Parental Pride

When we arrived at church this evening, we headed in to drop our children off as normal - Emmett to the nursery and Micaiah to the classroom where the Puggles gather.  The Puggles are the two- and three-year-old sections of Awanas, for those culturally unaware.  And if you don't even know Awanas, well, no worries, that knowledge has little relevance to tonight's tale.  To our surprise, all the tiny two-year-olds were gathered at the door, ready to head out to their Awanas awards ceremony.

My little girl is old enough for an Awana award?!  An award for what, I didn't know - showing up to class?  But you better believe I wasn't missing this, our daughter's first on-stage experience beyond her baby dedication at eight months old.  I was also very intrigued at the concept that these Puggles were supposed to be singing a song and doing a poem.  My daughter, who still skips words in Pat-a-Cake and Where is Thumbkin - this I had to see.

Sadly, not being forewarned, I mourned my not bringing our camera which was sitting, memory card full, on our dining room table, or even our video camera which, sadly, suffered a dead battery (or three - apparently I'm not good with fully understanding the concept of a back-up battery) recently and has yet to recover.  So I was focused on storing this away in my internal memory card.

The Puggles filed in, adorned in matching yellow t-shirts, all too big for them, which most had not been wearing when dropped off.  My little wild-haired baby girl stood proudly tall, shirt to her knees and followed silently along with the actions to the song, though never opened her mouth, beyond chewing on her tongue.  During a break, she returned my blown kiss, but otherwise was perfectly composed. 

After the painfully silent song, poem and memory verses (while there were a few words shouted sporadically by a couple of the other youngsters, none of them quite had the memory capacity for all they were requested to perform), it was award time.  My baby was getting her first medal.  And she was so proud.  There, in the center of the stage, she quietly, but enthusiastically, held it out for momma to see.  And then lifted her arm high so I could see the matching bracelet she'd been given.  Not gonna lie, I almost cried.  An award for doing nothing but going to class and playing with blocks for almost an hour, and I was tearing up. 

As Philip and I slipped out to attend our actual class, we met up with our proud Puggle in the foyer and gave her a giant hug as she showed us her medal close up.  What a moment.

It wasn't until we arrived in our own classroom that I remembered - I carry a camera in my purse.  Battery charged only days ago, memory card nearly brand new, it had been slipped back in my bag just yesterday for moments such as these.  Apparently I'm really good at thinking ahead - now if I could match my thinking-in-the-moment skills to the other I'd be set.

So here is a post-ceremony photo of my little medal-earner (I'd like to pretend her hair doesn't look like this most of the time, but, sadly, those curly locks are hard to tame and most attempts to style them only end in lost barrettes when we retrieve her from class, so, it's true, many times I just let it be - although it doesn't always go this wild - thus, please excuse the unkempt appearance):

If she's old enough for an awards ceremony, she's clearly old enough to drive.  Or so Daddy thought, apparently.  Here she is guiding our car down the street:

At home, she shared her awards.  Emmett was given her medal and Daddy was allowed to borrow the bracelet.  So self-less, that girl.

1 comment:

  1. It should be noted, for any that would worry, that my hand never left the wheel and despite her attempts to "guide" our car right into a mailbox, we made it home slowly but safely.