If you've ever been to a Mormon Primary Program (where the kids sing and do all the talks during Sacrament Meeting), you've probably noticed that there's always one kid who sings about twice as loud as all the others combined.
In our ward, that kid is not only loud, but sings with enough vibrato to make any opera singer jealous. That kid is Paigey
We've known this about Paige for a few years now, we just hoped that others wouldn't notice. Well, they did.
A few weeks before the Primary Program, Paige was asked if she would sing a solo. She was ecstatic about the opportunity. We were a little nervous about it, especially since she refuses to sing in front of us, which means should wouldn't practice at all.
Paige didn't seem to get nervous until the day of the event, when we were driving to church. "My stomach feels weird," she said.
By the time she was sitting on the stand, fidgeting uncomfortably, I could tell she was
really nervous. But she still probably wasn't as nervous as Traci and I.
When she walked up to the microphone, all alone, my heart was thumping in my ears. The piano started, the chorister raised her arm, and give Paige her cue. After a small pause--which felt like a mega enormous is-she-going-to-do-it pause to her parents--a voice as big as a house excited our tiny daughter's body.
She did a wonderful(ly dramatic) job. We were very proud of her.
She was also proud of herself. As she went back to her seat to sing the remainder of the songs with the the primary, she was beaming. She continued to belt the songs out, louder than anyone else but now with her arms crossed proudly across her chest and her eyes closed like an R&B diva.
After the program, she was showered with praise from just about everyone. She, of course, let this go directly to her head.
After church, we had this conversation:
Me: Paige, you did a great job. Do you think you'd want to try taking voice lessons?
Paige: [Rolling her eyes] Voice lessons? What are voice lessons?
Me: It's like your piano lessons, but you practice singing.
Paige: Dad, I take piano lessons so I can get good at playing piano. I'm already good at singing.
Later that night, I left the kids in the car while I dropped some keys off at the Relief Society president's house. When I got back in, Paige said, "Let me guess, Sister Rickards told you what a good job I did." (No, Paige. I'm sorry to say she didn't mention it.)
It's good to have a confident kid.
--
On a related note, Curtis also refuses to sing. But not just in front of us, he refuses to sing ever. (Well, that's not entirely true. I have heard him singing C&C Music Factory in the bathroom.) He once again refused to sing during the Primary Program. But we had a few major breakthroughs. Not only did he stay on the stage for the whole program (with his lips pursed so no singing could slip out), but he actually said his one-sentence part into the microphone. (Last year, he walked up to the microphone and not only refused to deliver his line, but turned his back to the audience. Take that, crowd!) It was super fast and completely mumbly, but he did it. Another proud parent moment.
