The Woodyettes both achieved milestones this past Sunday. It was the day of our annual Primary Sacrament program. As I have documented before, these programs have become edge-of-the-seat tension builders for me and the Missus over the past few years. This is because our lovely daughters are both painfully shy. It's not their fault; both Woody's and Mrs. Woody's family lineages are replete with bashful genes. How those genes managed to reproduce is subject to some conjecture.
Anyway, the fact remains that for each of the past several programs the Woodyettes have passed through varying stages of petrification in the presence of any crowd greater than three. This is particularly ironic given the fact that their old man has been a long-time actor and singer (the order is unclear even now) for whom a good crowd holds no terror. Not even costuming that one might consider minimalist could deter me from a performance.
Imagine, then, Woody's joy and pride as he watched both Woodyettes march right up to the microphone and speak their parts. Jelly fumbled hers just a bit at the end, but she substituted words that made sense to the theme, thus demonstrating her excellent stage recovery technique. Doodle just belted away in that still-little-girl voice of hers, but spoke clearly enough that just about everyone in the congregation who knows her was duly impressed.
Just as impressive was witnessing both girls singing all of the songs this year. In the past, Doodle would attempt at least some of the songs, while Jelly would stand there looking grim and entirely uncomfortable. Well, this year Jelly still looked uncomfortable, but she was singing - even when her class was by itself. Doodle just stood and sang. It was wonderful to watch.
This is similar to our Photos With Santa. Every year you can track the girls' levels of relative terror at having to sit on the Big Guy's lap and pretend to be thrilled. Doodle in particular is a wonderful study. She goes from near-complete ignorance of the entire process (at 12 months old) to near-complete apoplexia a couple of years ago. Last year she actually smiled. Another milestone!
The point is that our Woodyettes seem to be turning those corners where they no longer need to remain safe and snug in their protective shells. In nearly all social situations they show themselves to be growing into poised, graceful young ladies.
Then they come home and bounce off the walls.
One miracle at a time, I guess.