The boys got to scavenge through Justin's mission ties to spruce up their own Sunday outfits.
Hydn was not to be left out.
He wasn't greedy.
He just wanted one.
The Big, Fluffy, Golden One.
And now he doesn't go a single Sunday without it.
This causes tremendous embarrassment to older siblings.
But he doesn't mind, not even when it almost drags the ground.
In fact, that seems to be one of the least of his worries.
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Because- it's his singing, not the tie, that is going to be the end of us.
Let me back up to late October.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ (these are wavy t.v. lines - the cartoon ones that take you back in time)~ ~ ~
Hydn never sings. Never. Never ever. Seriously, not even the hint of a hum escapes those lips. A person may start a tune jauntily enough in his presence, but after five minutes your lips will seal as tight as pharaoh's tomb too. His silence is intimidating. He won't sing at church, he won't sing at home, he won't sing in the car, on a boat, on a plane, etc, etc... He won't sing primary songs, t.v. jingles, or even Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer. We have threatened, cajoled, begged, and bribed. Not a peep. He just stares at you.
That is until our last camping trip, when the dam finally burst... I'd been wanting to see the fall colors of the Ozarks, and so the last week in October, we headed out. We hunted for the prime spot in NW Arkansas. When we found it I dropped the kids off to save our spot, and then I drove back to pay. They started setting up the tents while I was gone, when suddenly there was a cloudburst. It rained on them- hard! Our best guess is that all that rain washed away the last of Hy's inhibitions. He began to sing! It was a miracle! He walked around camp, in the pouring rain (hot, sticky, rain), waving a stick around his head, and singing!
He chose, Lovely Ladies from Les Mis.
It isn't exactly what I'd have chosen for his opening debut - but you're familiar with the old saying about beggars and choosing?
Are you as familiar with the bawdy lyrics?
For refresher's sake:
"Lovely Ladies, smell'em through the smoke,
Seven days at sea will make you hungry for a poke."
It is quite catchy, wouldn't you agree?
The happy ending to this story is that the campground had a dryer. -And, when the kids were shocked into paralysis by Hydn's singing (and choice of song), our forgotten and unsheltered sleeping bags were in desperate need of one.
The not so great news is that he's kept with it.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ (Now fast forward with me to the Christmas program, and beyond. Here is a letter sent to Cache.)~ ~ ~
"Dear Cache,
Christmas was painful.
Unbelievably painful.
Oh gosh. I just don't even have words to describe it. Really, I don't. Nothing I tell you, or write you can even come close to the pain and agony we went through as Hydn got up to sing with the primary for the Christmas program today. You can ask anybody in the family for confirmation - there is NO WAY for me to exaggerate this one beyond what it was. So here's the story: The primary got up to sing. Right before they did I told Hy, "Alright, I'm soooo excited! I can't wait to hear you finally sing to me! I hope you sing really loud so that I can hear you." He grinned, shook his head up and down, and said, "Aw-wight!" When he got on the stage he got pushed behind all the other kids. I was trying to catch a glimpse of him and motion him forward to the front. Sister Cardoza went up before it started and helped make room for him, front center stage (I thought that was sweet of her- until later- now I'm thinking she did it out of spite.) Because then...then the music began. Oh, holy, cow (not 'oh, holy, night)! There are no words. Ha! Actually, that would be a fact, not just an expression. There truly were no words coming from Hydns mouth -at all. I didn't think to ask if he had learned the words. But I'd told him to sing, and sing loud. And he was not about to disappoint me on Christmas! So he opened wide- and bellowed- in what can only be described as a coyote howl. One looooooooooooong, LOUD howl, -only stopping for deep breaths to begin the howling again. If I'd have had a shotgun I'd have been tempted to run him off stage. Similar to how Bert fires a shotgun in the air during the full moon. Oh Cache. It was awful. Seriously. No words to describe it. And he was sooo proud. But, he didn't sing a word the entire time - in any of the interminably long three songs! And he was so loud nobody else could even be heard! It was just one BIG, "AWHOOOOOOOO!!!!" He may not have had time to learn the words, but if singing is what we wanted, then singing is what he would give us! I gave him a wobbly smile and a weak thumbs up, to show my support, but it only made him louder. However, when I cringed, he would get a hurt look that would about break my heart. So - then- I'd give another thumbs up, and he would beam, and then start a new howl even louder than the last!
Calder leaned over with wild eyes and said, "MOM! This is AWFUL!! What do we do?? How do we stop him? Should I go get him? MOM! STOP HIM!" Maddie ducked as low as she could and just giggled and giggled, and even snorted. She was absolutely no help. Dad was on stage, and feasibly could have done something if he weren't so intent on looking at his shoes and pretending to be deaf. Even Jesse was astounded. Her mouth was agape, and when she finally got it closed she doubled over and hid with Maddie. Pal was the only safe one. He was up on stage too, but he'd made darn sure to put ten feet between himself and Hy. (He'd heard him practice you see...) And that ten feet was enough to ensure nobody was looking at him. All eyes were centered on the monstrosity center front stage- OR US! Oh gosh. I did not know what to do except laugh... and cry - simultaneously. It was just the worst. You've seen little kids get up and belt out the songs before. It's endearing, right? But I have NEVER seen one howl. Never. I had to wipe off my makeup after the song. I had laughed/cried so hard that it was everywhere. I also had four, count them- FOUR- people come up in the MIDDLE of the musical number to comfort me and pat me on the back. FOUR! IN THE MIDDLE! Not after sacrament, or church, but IN THE MIDDLE! Who does that unless it's just THAT BAD? And oh jeepers... it was THAT BAD. But, now it's time to move on."
And that is where we still are today.
So you see?
That Golden Tie truly is the least of our concerns.
In fact, it's quite possibly a blessing.
The tighter we cinch it... the quieter he sings.
