I just returned from an elementary school band/orchestra/choir concert.

Oh, my middle grade writing friends, get thee to a concert just to watch and witness 8-11 years olds in action.

My eight-year-old girlie was part of the choir, where the height of the kids varies by about 2 feet--maybe more. She was supposed to dress dressy and festive (red or green). Black velvet skirt (check), pink/blue argyle tights (uh, check), orange top (uh...), green polka dot rain boots (whoops). She was BEAUTIFUL.

The voices were sweet.

The strings in the orchestra--tender and new.

Then there was the band...oh, the band...well...the band was...uh....

The band was loud and chaotic and clumsy. In other words, they were FANTASTIC. The band made me smile and laugh because it was so good and so bad all at once. Weeee!

When it got back to the choir, three soloists were featured. Can you imagine being 9 years old and singing in front of a packed house. Impressive!

Each of the the three young girls took their turn at the mike, singing so soft and so sweet and so pretty.

Except for the, "Hack...Hack...Hack."

"Uh, excuse me, lady. I can't hear my kid sing over all that coughing."

Of course that lady was me. Well, okay, maybe no one said that. But I've been battling a cold for the last three days, and as these sweet, soft voices started to sing, I began a horrid coughing fit. HOR-RID! I tried so, so, so hard to stop it. To cough soft. To swallow. Until tears were pouring down my cheeks and air was ready to explode from my lungs. I had to fight my way down packed bleachers, all the way across the gymnasium, into the hall, where I ran for the bathroom because the coughs were so loud and hard and wouldn't stop. I mean, mamas, it was a cross-your-legs kind of coughing. You know the kind.

Hoping my head clears enough and the coughs quiet enough to write tomorrow.