Changing my job description

My daughter is teleconferencing.  She’s presenting a bill to the Oklahoma legislature Friday, and she realized she needed to find an additional $45 funding, so she placed an internet video call to the co-sponsor of her bill.  They’re having a power lunch while they discuss the details.


My daughter is 13!  I thought homeschooling meant that I’d be teaching her.  Silly me.  Apparently my job is more about watching her learn. 

And driving her to Oklahoma for her government appointments.  She knows how to use the internet and write bills, but she can’t drive.  At least there’s something left for me to teach…


Rejecting pink

My daughter spent the day rooting out the last vestiges of pink in her bedroom. 

Only three years ago, while house hunting, she begged her daddy to buy a particular one because it featured a pink, girly bedroom.  As soon as we finished moving all the furniture into the house we chose, daddy decorated her room with butterflies, flowers, and – you know – pink. 

Then she turned into a teenager.  It happens to the best of us.

Over time, the stuffed animals got relegated to the closet and the china dolls to a bottom drawer.   The pink and lavendar pillows fell behind the bed and stayed there.  When an older friend offered her curtains and a bedspread done in animals prints, she grabbed them with a big grin.

Last week, she went off to California on a spring break adventure hosted by the grandparents and celebrated her 13th birthday with her “triplet cousins,”  who just HAPPEN to be little girls turning thirteen, too.  When she came home, her bedroom seemed just a little too childish for her, so she fixed it.  The framed kitty picture came down.  An afternoon with a spray bottle took care of the butterfly wallpaper border, and a ruthless rampage through the closet and the pink plastic chest of drawers took care of the rest.  Those drawers are in a corner of my living room now, looking for a new home.

She doesn’t miss the pink. 

I do, a little.

How to become a theatre/art fan

Yesterday, I ran into my friend Lee at a museum event, and I asked him if he’d seen a performance of Oklahoma! at the local theatre.  He laughed and said no, he wasn’t a fan of art and theatre.  I laughed, too, because I know exactly what it will take to turn him into a fan.  It’s what happened to me that changed me from the kind of person who watches live theatre once every few years to one who watches live theatre several times a month.  It takes your own kid being on stage. 

Simple formula.

This is my kid, playing Slim in his last weekend of performing Oklahoma! at the Wichita Theatre.


Second from the left, white hat, black vest.  Ain’t he cute? 🙂

In a few weeks, I’ll be subjected to, I mean, treated to High School Musical 2 on stage.  After that, a little Shakespeare just to lift the mood, and then it’s on to Wizard of Oz.

Go ahead, call me a fan.  Lee Weaver, it could happen to you, too.