Gavin’s Christmas Concert is tonight. Rotten weather resulted in the cancellation of the original program, and subsequently every other class dropped out, so Gavin’s preschool class will perform on their own. They have three songs, and then we’ll all eat some cookies.

He loves these crazy songs. I’d never heard of any of them before:  Every Little Wish, Little Toy Trains, and There Was a Little Baby. We sing them every night after stories. (Well, sometimes I sing, and other times I’m scolded, and told, “No, not you,” and then he sings solo.)

I dig school concerts. I performed in them all the way through senior year, and then was in a band during college. Our elementary school music teacher—this wicked thin, tall woman with feathered hair (imagine Mary Tyler Moore grimacing)—actually got the elementary kids to sing together, and on key, and ultimately had us enter competitions against other schools. She’d play an autoharp and holler emphatic commands at us. She was a spellbinding conductor. I was a little terrified of her. (And cannot, for the life of me, remember her name.)

I’m looking forward to this. I even feel a little nervous about it. Gavin on stage singing for an audience. Rock on.