Take Two

Remember this from last year?

Well, my friends, our annual primary program was Sunday. Before I tell you how it went, I need to tell you that on Friday morning I got an email from our sweet Primary President. Apparently last Sunday (the week before the program) Lainey had a meltdown at the microphone. Wouldn't say her part. Wanted her Mommy. Died of embarrassment. Cried buckets. In front of everyone in her primary. So the president emailed me, wondering what they could do to help. Friday afternoon, Lainey, Brady, and I trekked to the 'rehearsal' to see if having mom in the audience would soften her nerves. Nope, she still didn't want to do it.

Last year, she had no speaking part and slept through it. It looked like this year, although she had a speaking part, wouldn't be much better. In fact, it might be very traumatic for her to even try. This blows my mind. I'm loud, outgoing, and about as un-shy as you can be. My shy daughter is a mystery to me. I find myself, at times, without compassion for the quiet persona my daughter portrays for the world. She's not quiet at home. She's loud. What's the big deal?

So we practiced her part like crazy. I bribed her with gum, which is typically reserved for people over the age of five. We talked about it a lot. And then it was Sunday morning. The bishop was inviting the children to the stand. Momentary hesitation passed over Lainey's eyes. Nope, I thought, she's not chickening out. She's doing this. Get her out of our pew before all the other children pass otherwise she'll never go up. And what child was the wiggliest? Who's child was making funny faces? What family was waved at from the pew the most? My child. Our family. And when her turn came, she said her part. And she said it so cute! "We have a prophet (pause, then with a dramatic crescendo) who leads the church!" She did great. We talked about how brave she was. I asked her how it feels to be brave. "Feels great!" Sure does, sweetie!