No, not the election. I wish.
I'm talkin' 'bout the Primary Presentation. Yet another year's over and done! The kids were fine; I would have preferred a bit more enthusiasm but you can't squeeze blood from a stone and so I'm just glad that at least half of them sang. Paul not only didn't sing (he preferred to twiddle his hair and stare slack-jawed at the ceiling), but he also refused to go to the microphone to say his part.
Since I was actually going to be looked at (standing in front of the congregation and leading the singing), I put on some makeup. Eli noticed it during the Sacrament (when we are supposed to be silently meditating) and said loudly, "What's on your eyes?"
I whispered, "Makeup."
"Mango? You have mango on your eyes!?" Eli has no volume control. I'm sure they heard him up on the podium.
"Shh. I said makeup."
A minute passes. "You shouldn't put mango on your eyes!"
"Shh. It's makeup."
Another minute passes. "Can I have mango on my eyes?"
After the program was over, we went to the Primary room and sort of did our normal routine, but with a "party" (term used VERY loosely) at the end. The kids had been promised that i would play the guitar for them, which I did. I played "If the Savior Stood Beside Me," "Tell me the Stories of Jesus," "Popcorn Poppin'," and "Once There Was a Snowman." The older children insisted that even with my guitar I still had to melt down to the floor, so I did, which was un poquito challenging. I ended up in a classic guitar-solo shredder pose. Once I am released as Chorister, I will join an all-mom hair metal band.