Paige hates playing the piano. And she reminds of this fact every single time she has to practice.
This afternoon, as I was driving her to a piano recital at the University of Utah, she asked, "When can I quit piano?"
"When you're 18," I responded.
She groaned audibly and said, "I was hoping I could quit on Monday."
After the recital, I took her to Red Robbin for a pile of fries and an enormous shake--a pretty impressive reward by our standards. That cheered her right up. Dad saves the day!
A little while after we got home, Paige said, "My stomach doesn't feel so good."
She's been throwing up mint chocolate chips all night.
Maybe next time I better choose a different treat.