Paige is Cute

Here's the proof.

Genetics

Sometimes I feel like I should apologize to my kids for giving them my DNA. I took Paige to her first friend-birthday party yesterday. She loves going to birthday parties (except for her own, she gets really upset bya ll of the attention), but this was the first time she was going to be at a party all by herself.

The night before, she had seemed enthusiastic about the prospect of going to a party with all of her Primary friends. Plus, we'd been hyping the fact that there would be pizza and it was going to be a Batman party. (She doesn't know anything about Batman, other than that her cousin really likes Batman, but that was enough to get her excited.) But when we actual got to the party, the nervousness kicked in.

"Uh, how 'bout you stay, dad?"

"I'll come in for just a little second, but you're going to have so much fun by yourself. It's going to be just like school or Primary. I'll be back in a little bit to pick you up."

"Not a little second. How 'bout you stay for a really long time?"

I ushered her in and tried to point out which of her friends were hidden under their masks and capes. She was weepy and clingy and I felt just as bad. Luckily the birthday boy's older sisters grabbed her and pulled her into the group. I told the party mom that if Paige was too distraught to give me a call and I'd come back and get her and then I quickly snuck out.

As Curtis headed off to have some male bonding--i.e., go to Costco to buy diapers, I had to feel horrible about what I had given my daughter.

I was the anxious little kid growing up, too. She gets that from me. I hated going to parties and the uncertainty that came along with it. I hated going to friends' houses if my mom didn't stick around. Paige wept and wailed through 18 months of nursery, I wouldn't even go--I sat under the table while my dad taught Elders Quorum.

I was a little nervous to pick her up, for fear that the experience had traumatized her for life. The opposite was true.

"Hi, Paige. How was the party?"

"It was the best Batman party ever!"

(This was impressive, given her extensive Batman party history.)

She told me all about the pinata she hit and the pepperoni pizza she ate and the candy that she got to have in her very own bag that she could take home with her. She wore her mask all the way home and told me that "Mom will love my cape."

She was right. Mom did love it. I loved it, too.

2, 3, 4!

My dream has come two-thirds true. Other than a holdout from Traci, our family band is making some outstanding progress. Today I had a pretty good jam session with the kiddos. Curtis played drums, I played guitar, and Paige handled vocal and second guitar duties.

What we may be lacking in substance, we definitely make up for in style. Before Curtis starts playing he shouts "2, 3, 4!" just like a good punk rock drummer should. (The only problem is that he plays for about 3 seconds and then has to stop and shout it again. Our songs are going to have to be very short.) Paige always thinks she needs to turn up her guitar. That's cool, but she has an acoustic guitar. She turns every knob she can to get more volume, but really she's just moving the tuning pegs. With all of her wacky tunings I afraid we're turning into a prog band. I've lost all creative control.

FHE...The H Stands for 'Hate'

We've been lucky with Paige. She's never told us that she hates us or even called us "Bad Mommy" or "Bad Daddy." In fact, she's never told us that she hates anything. Until we started having Family Home Evening.

As bad Mormons, Traci and I figured we could get away with not having family night, given that the family spends every night together. But now that Paige is in primary, we figured we'd better start.

"Paige, we're going to have Family Night."

"What's Family Night?"

"It's where we sing some songs and then have a lesson. It's just like primary."

"I don't want to have Family night."

"Come on, it will be fun. We'll have a treat after."

Traci started with a song, but Paige was clearly still not happy about the idea. She started wandering around, mumbling something under breath.

I listened carefully to figure out what you she was saying.

"What did you say?" I asked.

She looked up at me and whispered timidly, "I hate this."

"What?"

"Family night."

So of all the unpleasant things Paige has experienced in her short little life--shots at the doctor, being left at a babysitter's, eating her vegetables--only Family Home Evening causes her to express hatred.

Oh, our little Sunbeam.