I tried to prepare the boys for the "Musical Season" at our house, but I'm sure they had no idea what that meant until they survived living at the director's house for the two weeks leading up to the show. My husband is used to it. My five children have been through it many times. They know what to expect and they have lived to tell about it. They remember the warmed-up (and sometimes non-existent) suppers, the bleary eyed answers to questions, the brief glimpses of someone they thought lived at their house, and the barely concealed lack of patience that was thoroughly exhausted dealing with talented, but moody teenagers.
I am happy to report that both Victor and Dennis have weathered the storm in fine shape. They put up with their dad's cooking, appreciated Grandma's freezer meals, scrounged in the refrigerator for snacks, and tried to keep the questions and the need for help to a minimum. They even went to the show and laughed in all the right places! I'm totally exhausted, but as proud as punch.
They told me they took a vote: 3-0 they want me back. Sure is nice to be appreciated.
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