Birthdays

I'm back-dating this post. It's mid-December, so it'll be obvious. But it's a post about November, so I don't feel too badly. It's just that I got stuck around mid-November. I wanted to write some heart-warming, tear-jerking letter to Marcie in celebration of her 5th birthday. But somewhere in between loads of laundry, dirty diapers, and the general mayhem of my life, I couldn't make myself focus. And it didn't help that Marcie had hit a . . . uh . . . especially sassy period.


But Marcie had a nice birthday. We celebrated with a party at Pump it Up. As is our tradition, I made Marcie's birthday cake this year. She wanted Hannah Montana. And by the time I finished paying for the right cake pans, food coloring, frosting, tips, frosting bags, etc., I probably could have gotten a professional one much cheaper! (Note to self: Costco, costco, costco!) But, hey, it's a labor of love, right? Here's the main cake tray:

She got a lot of very cool gifts-- including blingletts (to make bracelets!) and shrinky dinks (remember those!?!). We're still working on the thank you notes (the part I wrote is finished, but Marcie's taking her sweet time completing them). But we'll get there.

Marcie was five way before she turned five. She is the same height Casey was when he was 6 1/2. And now that she's missing those three front teeth and a bottom one, she looks much older than her age. Which is fitting. Because she acts, most of the time, much older than her age. But she's only five. And I have to remember that sometimes. She is smart. And observant. And she likes to make sure everyone knows what to do. She's like a mini-me. No wonder we clash so often.

Race

Race can be such a loaded topic. There is much debate in the China adoption world about the responsibilities of non-Chinese parents (predominantly White) who adopt children from China. Heck, there is much debate in the U.S. about transracial adoption, too. But the Chinese thing has been on my mind lately.

A few weeks ago, Marcie told me, "Mommy, I wish I had light skin like yours." It about made my heart stop. I think Marcie is about as beautiful as they come. I love her porcelain skin. I love her almond eyes. I love her long, dark hair. She is downright pretty. And I tell her so. All the time. (Among other things- I also tell her how smart I think she is, or how observant, or how funny.)

Of course I asked her why she wanted lighter skin. And she didn't really have a reason. Just thought it looked better is all.

After I asked her why, I asked her what color she thought her skin was (brown) and what color my skin is (light). I pointed out that I have brown "spots" (freckles) all over me, but that her skin is beautiful- and the same- all over. I told her that everybody has something about themselves that they wish was a little different. This is normal. But that I hoped she'd change her mind-- because I so very much love the color of her skin. I also told her I was glad she told me what was on her mind. (And I was glad to know that the impetus of her statement was not something mean someone said at school-- but I have to wonder, at least a little bit, how being at a not-particularly-racially-diverse school will affect her self-image as she gets older.)

I imagine this will not be our first conversation about the topic of skin color. It's such an obvious thing-- and yet lots of people really skirt the issue. I'm not going to do that. I am not going to ignore this difference between us. But I do hope she comes to view herself as I do-- just. plain. pretty.

What about you? How would you have handled it? (Or how have you handled it if the topic has come up in your home?)

Comedy of Errors (Part Two)

I first wrote a post called Comedy of Errors when we were waiting to travel to meet Marcie. I'm experiencing a bit of deja vu.

Our goal this weekend was to get Tate's room more ready than it was. (It was a mess of leftover papers and junk that we'd collected in our office before moving our office to what used to be our dining room.) But with two very active kids, I fully recognize the need to get them out and about, too.

On Saturday we connected with three other families at the park-- that's when Marcie did some severe damage to her mouth. That night, leaving our friends' house, Marcie dropped her vanilla milkshake, and it splattered all down the back of me-- and the back of our black car.

On Sunday, I took the kids through the Costco car wash, then bought Marcie a soft serve ice cream. She managed to dump vanilla ice cream down the outside door of the black car, which had just been washed. And then she didn't say anything, so it dried that way.

Later in the afternoon, she was working on a book box for school, which involved some glitter. Instead of waiting for me (I was folding laundry) to help her shake off the excess glitter, she decided to shake it herself. She tried to do so over the trashcan, but instead, she got it all over the kitchen floor.

Then today, I'd cooked pasta so that Marcie could have macaroni salad at the pool party we were attending. Marcie was carrying the bowl of pasta out through the laundry room, when she tipped the container, the lid came loose, and she spilled about half the contents on the laundry room and garage floors (those concrete floors are hard to get sticky macaroni loose from).

Poor Marcie.

On top of that, after visiting her dentist today, we learned that she will be losing at least three teeth on Wednesday-- her front two teeth and one next to it (on top). We are keeping our fingers crossed that the bottom three teeth and a top canine can be saved. It turned out the fall was very damaging to Marcie's mouth-- she went from an overbite to an under bite (no exaggeration). And the trauma was as if someone took a baseball bat to her mouth. Poor kid. I think she's getting bored of all the soft foods. She's off the Motrin now, but she'll be back on it on Wednesday when they "wiggle her teeth out."

She's been very positive about it all-- she thinks it's just great that the tooth fairy will be visiting and exchanging gifts for three teeth.

All I can think about (besides the pain the poor girl will be in) is how much her smile is going to change in the next couple days. . . I know it would have happened eventually. But three teeth at once-- it's a lot. Glad I got some great smiley shots of her with Casey before the incident. I'll post some before and after photos later this week.

Faceplant

Yesterday we met up in the park with some neighbors/friends to play when it cooled off.


Marcie was sitting on top of the metal gate that surrounds the sandbox, her feet wrapped through the bars of the gate. I think she may have called out my name- though I don't' remember it- and the next thing I knew, she was falling face forward onto the concrete. Nothing broke her fall. Except her face, I guess.


Fortunately, we were with three other families, who herded the other kids away from the scene and handed me a cloth to use. Marcie's crying wasn't even loud enough to alert Jason to her distress, and one of the parents went to get him. The other families told us they'd watch Casey and off we drove (thank goodness we drove to the park instead of walked!). When Marcie fell, her front two teeth were shoved up into her gum line, and she cut her lip (and scratched up her chin). There was a lot of blood. And after a while, her teeth actually came back down, out of the gum line (and we discovered that one is cracked the length of the tooth, down the middle).


On the way, we called my sister-in-law, whose cousin in our kids' dentist-- and she gave us Dr. Hope Ann's personal phone number. And thankfully Hope Ann answered and was not irritated we called. And was very helpful. And even offered to see Marcie on Monday- even though it's Labor Day.


The bleeding eventually stopped, and her fat lip makes her very difficult to understand. But she was never threw up, didn't bite all the way through the lip (so won't need plastic surgery), and her chin injury is just some abrasions. She was feeling better enough a couple hours after it happened to join the other families in a dinner feast with a gaggle of kids (and I even had to keep telling her to stop running in her flip flops!) Of course, we won't have an official prognosis until we see the dentist, but I am nonetheless feeling pretty lucky that the damage was not worse- and that we were with people who were super helpful and understanding.

My Big Girl Goes to Kindergarten

Today was Marcie's first day of kindergarten.

She carefully picked out a new outfit, which I washed and set out for her to wear, with a new pair of shoes she also selected. Last night, I stayed up late organizing our classroom supply donations for each child, labeling their backpacks and lunchboxes, and pre-making as much of their lunches as I could.

This morning, Marcie decided she didn't want to wear her new clothes. Or shoes. And I thought we were going to be in big trouble. But then, she told me if I'd wear my exercise shoes (which totally clashed with my outfit), she'd agree to wear hers. So I did.

We walked to school and I helped Casey scout out his new line-up location.


When one of his teachers picked up the class, I wandered back over to the kindergarten playground, just as Marcie's teacher arrived. Her teacher gave me a huge hug and said hello to Marcie, calling her by name (it doesn't hurt that this was Marcie's teacher last year and that her two sons have been responsible, in part for Casey and Marcie's summer care).

We helped Marcie hang up her backpack, watched her sign her name and cut a line, and caught up with one of her summer friends at the I Spy poster to locate some items. Then Marcie and I sat and read while we waited for class to begin. Mrs. F read The Kissing Hand to the kids and then invited us to kiss our kids good-bye.

For a brief moment, I thought Marcie might cry-- and I knew if she did, I would, too. One little girl started crying, then a little boy -- and I thought for sure it was going to set of a chain reaction of little tears. But it did not. Thankfully.

When I returned 3 1/2 hours later to collect Marcie, she found me right away,

pointed me out to her teacher,

and gave Mrs. F a high-five good-bye.

She proudly told me that she'd learned to read. That she'd sung two songs. That I forgot to pack her a spoon in her lunch, but not to worry because she went ahead and just bought one ("and they didn't even charge [her]!").

I'm one proud mama.

Sweet Anticipation

Marcie's first day of kindergarten is just two days away.

We've been talking about it all summer. We moved her over to the school's summer program so that she could make some new friends before the year began-- and it took a while, but she did.

Today we got her class roster, and as luck would have it, neither of her two best summer friends will be in her class next year. I admit it. I'm disappointed. But Marcie took it in stride. At least over the phone. I'd called to check in and see how her day at the beach with her cousins was going, and my mom put her on the phone. My mom told me Marcie looked like a teenager, sitting on her towel chatting away on a cell phone.

I started out with the "bad news" first-- neither of her two besties are in her class next year. Then, I went on to tell her that two of her good friends from pre-K are in her class next year. There was a bit of a pause, and then she said, (insert stereotypical tween/teenager tone): "Okay, Mom. But who is my teacher?"

Oh. I gave her that piece of information. She said, "Cool," and then she handed the phone back to my mom.

Perhaps I'm the one with the anxiety after all . . .

Happy Familyversary

Four years ago today, Jason and I sat in a hotel conference room, listening to instructions on how to prepare a bottle "Chongqing" style for our new daughter-to-be.

The room was filled with 17 very anxious, new parents. And as the caretakers carried the babies and sat them down in conference room chairs, we all craned our necks and whispered to our partners and pointed to our children. As soon as they set Marcie down on a chair, she cried.

Then, one by one, we were called to the front of the room. As we were handed our daughter, we paused quickly for a couple of posed photos, then took our children back to our sections of the giant conference room and fed them.


This evening, we found ourselves out to dinner-- just the three of us-- while Casey is at a sleepover. Marcie loved being doted on. So, in that sense, not much has changed.

Happy Familyversary, Marcie!

Today:

Bangs!

All the sun and swimming meant Marcie needed a hair cut. On the way, Marcie says, "Mom, I think I want bangs."


What? Huh? Bangs? This wasn't something I'd discussed with Jason-- and the thing about hair is that once you cut it, you can't uncut it. . .


I really hesitated. But, not surprisingly, Marcie seemed pretty certain. . .


And she looks great!

Talent Show

I've "complained" a few times about how difficult Marcie has been- mostly in the mornings. The other day, in between her fits of screaming, kicking and spitting at me while refusing to get dressed (even with help), she told me she wanted to go back to her preschool because she doesn't have any friends at the new school. I know this isn't so. But transition is rough. So I listened to her. I told her I understood. I explained that she's too big for preschool and that she will make new friends.


On Thursday evening, Marcie announced that she was in the summer talent show. She asked if Aunt Megan would come watch her perform the next day. Of course, Aunt Megan had already left town, so that wasn't possible. Jason couldn't get away for the 1:00 p.m. show either. So that left me. . .


I don't like leaving mid-day because, with the commute, it means missing around 2 or 2.5 hours in the middle of the workday, but it seemed important to her. And I was able to make it work.


I am so. glad. I. did.

The talent show wasn't very good.

But Marcie performed a dance. On. stage. In front of an audience of about 50-60. She didn't chew her nail, stand still, stomp, or even hesitate. She popped up on stage and did her thing.


She was so proud of herself.

And I was proud of her, too. Still am.

Big Changes

I have been remiss in my posting in large part because it's such a pain in the butt to download photos to include. I know, excuses, excuses.

Well, this post is all about Marcie. She's going through a rough patch right now. She has always been opinionated and sassy, but she's really been testing us in the past week and a half or so. Refusing to brush her teeth, comb her hair-- even get dressed. Throwing herself on the floor. Screaming at me. It's like having a teenager in the house. (I'm not-so-secretly hoping that us battling it out while she four and I'm thirty-something means I'll get a reprieve later on in life.)

But, in truth, Marcie is going through a lot of change right now.

Almost two weeks ago now, she graduated from preschool, where she's been hanging out with the same teachers and the same kids for almost 3 full years:

And the very next day (after a celebratory meal at Souplantation), Marcie started ESS, the local after-school care/summer camp program sponsored by our elementary school:


At ESS, Marcie is in a room with the other incoming kindergartners, and Casey is right next door. Each week has a theme, a trip to the movies and the community pool, a bring-your-bike-to-school day, and a field trip somewhere fun. The kids come home exhausted.

I know Marcie will adjust, but it's a big change for her. So we're trying very hard to be very patient. Even when she tells us she wants to go find a new family.

She Asked The Question

Sitting in the crowded (overbooked) waiting area for our flight home from North Carolina, my inquisitive, spit-fire daughter looked up at me and asked The Question:

"Mommy, how do you get the baby out of the tummy?"

Eyes all over the waiting area turned and looked at me and Jason.

But we were completely prepared.

"Marcie, we will tell you all about it. Later. Not at the airport."

And we did. Well, I did. The next day. I explained both ways. She asked if it hurt. I was honest (I don't know, but I've heard it does). But does it hurt very bad? Yes, I think so. But it's worth it. When you're 30. Because that's how old you should wait to be until you become a mom. (This is my standing answer for everything.)

It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas

I love this picture, even though the youngest of the kids is missing from the photo, because I think it shows their personalities so well! We had our annual holiday party with our good friends early this year because one family is quite popular and was all booked for the month of December, except for the first weekend. It ended up working out well because the weather was perfect to go to Candy Cane Court to see all the amazing lights they do each year. I won't bore you with photos of the lights-- just that picture above of the kids, at the start of our walk.

This weekend, in contrast, it was cold and rainy. I don't mind it so much for the winter. Yesterday, we mostly stayed indoors. I whipped up some salt dough, and Casey and Marcie used cookie cutters to make some new ornaments for our Christmas tree.

That's not all we did on our "lazy" Saturday. Marcie had swim lessons (it's an indoor pool, thankfully), and after swimming, we stopped by our favorite nail place. The ladies in there are always so good to Marcie, who loves getting her nails done. And they were slow. They only charged $3 for her nails-- and look at their amazing work (it's a little blurry, but that's a snow flake and a snowman on her thumbs). Yes, yes. I tipped ridiculously well.

We'd hoped to make it to our local Winter festival, where they light the big tree, offer train rides for the kids, and have a variety of live music entertainment, but the rain just didn't want to let up in the evening hours. Instead, we drove to Del Mar's Holiday of Lights. It was a conglomeration of lights all over the internal portion of the race track (we drove the outside). The kids oohed and ahed and drank hot chocolate from Starbucks while we drove slowly along the path.

Then this morning the kids got all gussied up for our special event-- How the Grinch Stole Christmas at the Old Globe. Casey was a little anxious about seeing the Grinch. We'd read the story (he actually read it to me) a couple times this weekend, and we watched the cartoon TV special (purchased at Target, if you're looking), too, since that's the true story and the version the play follows. It was really a great show. The actor who played the Grinch was fantastic. And a kind family even agreed to do some "photo swaps" with us, so we managed to get a picture of the whole family together. (See below)

Then this afternoon, we headed out to watch Casey play indoor soccer. For the first time this team season, his team lost a game (to the other undefeated team), which caused Casey to cry. And it was against the team that has the player Casey used to play with every season, before we started him in a recreational league. Poor guy. But he played like a champ-- we were all especially impressed when he took a ball directly to his left eye, which definitely fazed him for a moment. But he was tough and he kept on playing. We iced it and gave him some Tylenol, and I don't think it'll bruise. But we'll know for sure in the morning.

We ended the day by building a fire in our fire place.

It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas . . .

Marcie's Holiday Show

Well, we had a repeat performance of last year. Except she didn't stand there and cry the whole time. Instead, she chewed on her new mitten. And that was with Casey sitting next to her the whole time. Later, she said she would've sung if Casey had sung with her class. Which is, of course, ridiculous.

Here's a sample:

I admit, I didn't photo or video much-- how much can you tape of your child standing around doing nothing while everyone else is performing? . . .

Marcie's Birthday Cakes

As you might well imagine when it comes to me, there is a saga behind each of Marcie's birthday cakes. She has two because she asked me for a Dora face, and I knew it wouldn't be enough to feed a full party of kids. So then I bought a Costco sheet cake and threw some decorations on it.

No time to write about the sagas, but here are my "masterpieces" for you to enjoy:

They Really Can Swim

Our summer swim experiment was a success, by the way.

Casey, who'd worked his way through five previous swim program/schools and was terrified of any water over 3 feet deep can now swim. In 8-foot-deep water. By himself. After jumping in the pool. Even if no adults are in the pool with him.

Marcie still needs a grown up in the water, but she, too, loves jumping in, and can swim pretty far without even taking a breath.

I admit it. We're impressed. With the kids, too-- but especially with their swim teacher.

Competition

Casey and Marcie participate in far more verbal jousting than I'd like. Not particularly intellectual conversations, of course (they're only 6 and 3, after all). It's irritating none the less.

Here are a couple samples of typical "discussions" I hear when I drive them to school in the morning:

***
Casey: Marcie, I'm older than you are, so I'm in first grade and you're not.
Marcie: I'm old, too. I'm in pre-K.
Casey: No you're not. You're not old. I'm just old. You're young. You're like a baby.
Marcie: No I'm not. I'm a big girl. I'm big like you. I'm not a baby.
Casey: Yes you are. You're a baby. I'm just big.
Marcie: (now whining) I'm not a baby. I'm big. I'm a big girl. MO-O-O-OM, Casey says I'm a baby, but I'm not a baby, I'm a big girl.

***
Casey: Marcie I have brown hair, like Mommy. You have black hair.
Marcie: No I don't. I have brown hair.
Casey: Nuh uh. It's dark. It's black, not brown.
Marcie: I have brown hair Ca-sey. I'm telling.
Casey: Then I'm just not going to invite you to my birthday party.
Marcie: Yes. I want to go to your birthday party.
Casey: No. You're just not invited.

***

I never said these were intellectual conversations. Mind you, no one's birthday is even for another couple months, and they discuss these imaginary parties that one or other is or is not invited to all the time.

It's not the kind of bickering to which I can just respond by telling them to work it out or I'll take away whatever it is they're fighting over. I'm not sure what it is they're fighting over. And though Casey started these two example-arguments, Marcie starts her fair share of them, too.

I'm not sure what to do about it. No, I haven't read Siblings Without Rivalry. I expected bickering. I just didn't expect it to irritate me so much. At home when they argue like that, I just separate them. And they pretty much don't do it in public. But stick them in a car together and it's a different story.

They're so competitive with each other. I don't know if it's something I've fostered. Or even if it's a bad thing. Maybe they're just figuring out their relationship. Whatever they're doing, it's irritating when I'm driving. (And music doesn't drown it out- believe me, I've tried.) Do you think they'll ever grow out of it?

Zoo

Today we took my sister and brother in law with us to the zoo to see the new Elephant Odyssey exhibit. Jason brought along his anniversary present- a new Nikon D60. I have to admit, it takes pretty nice pictures. Check us out:

Open Houses

Ok. First, there was the whining. Mine.
The preschool open house was at 5:00 p.m.
The school doesn't even close until 6:00 p.m. And it's kind of a daycare slash preschool. So I was surprised. After all, they rely, at least a little bit, on us paying for full time care to keep the place open and running. And 5:00 p.m., really?

So I had to leave work at 4:00 p.m., to make sure I'd get out of the office by 4:15. And I did.
I raced to Casey's school to pick him up. We flew over to the preschool, where we met Marcie, playing on the playground with all the other bazillions of kids whose parents also don't show up before 5:00 p.m. She was happy to see us. We cut on lines, played with a puzzle, did a lace-up activity, and then the class danced. Well, most of the class. Not Marcie. Because she's not into actually participating in group activities when "outside" adults (including me) are watching. So I watched the other kids dance, while Marcie stood in her spot in the circle. It's not a big deal. I mean, the important thing is that she does what she's supposed to do during the school day. But still. It's irritating. Or maybe it's a little endearing. Honestly, I'm tired and I can't decide.

Then, in a moment of horrible parenting, I took the kids to (gasp!) McDonald's. It's a pretty rare occurrence. I think I might be able to actually name all the times I've ever taken the kids there. Even just for ice cream. But we were in a hurry. So to McDonald's we went.

Where Casey whined because he wanted two cookies for dessert. Puh-lease. Isn't McDonalds kind of like having greasy dessert for dinner, anyway?

At Casey's school, Marcie announced she had to use the bathroom. Which was, of course, locked. Fortunately, Casey could show us where the kindergarten bathroom was, in one of the other teacher's rooms. It smelled of urine. Probably all over the floor. I guess that's not a huge surprise since it's a kindergarten bathroom. But it was still gross.

Casey was thrilled to show off all his school work-- and with good reason. The thing about kindergarten is that the kids can't help but improve over the course of the year. Sure, Casey isn't the most advanced kid in his class. But that doesn't matter. He's learning. And he likes school. And that's what matters.

That's one of the strange things about open houses-- you can see what everyone else's kid is doing to. So it's hard not to compare-- or at least to wonder-- how your kid stacks up. I'm actually pretty good about not doing that. Like I said, my primary concern is Casey.

But then a mom mentioned that she'd like to have Casey over for a play date one of these Saturdays, now that t-ball is over. Casey didn't play t-ball. Partly because somehow we weren't even aware sign-ups were going on. But more honestly because we couldn't figure out how we'd get him to practice during the weeks. And this is our problem now, too, with soccer. How does he play community soccer if we can't get him to practices? How do we get to practices when we both work at least 30 minutes from home (did I mention Jason started a fabulous new job this week, the only down side being the commute?)?

I seriously don't think a month goes by that I don't sigh and think to myself that I wished one of us could be home to take care of these things. And picking up. And taking out the trash. And doing dishes and folding laundry. And mowing the lawn. And weeding. Seriously, how do people do it all? I can hardly find time to do any of it. It's a miracle I have clean underwear every week. (It's all about prioritizing, I suppose.)

And so now I've turned my kids' open houses, celebrations of their academic and social accomplishments, into a pity party- a guilt festival. That's so sad. Parenting at its best (and by best I mean worst). Some day. Some day we will get it all worked out. Some day one of us will be home after school. We will be poor. But our kids will have enriching, meaningful relationships with us because of it. And that's worth more than money can buy.

Some day.

Mommy, My ______ Hurts

No, I don't mean to tease you with a fun fill-in-the-blank activity.
And let's face it, we could find some pretty funny (or gross) words to fill in that blank.
And if we're honest, I've probably heard just about all of them, and my oldest child is only 6.

But this is a post devoted entirely to my Marcie.
She sort of gets short shrift on this blog, I think. Other than her initial arrival, it feels to me like I spend a lot more time obsessing about Casey than Marcie. But I digress.
Back to Marcie.

Marcie is pretty smart. Especially when it comes to manipulating situations to get what she wants. Like how she pretends not to know the letters of the alphabet, just so we'll spend more time quizzing her. Or how she'll ask questions she already knows the answers to. Or how she'll begin meals negotiating her vegetable quotas. She knows what she's doing. She is a pretty savvy three year old.

And one of her ploys is tell complain that she is in pain. This last time, she complained her head hurt. And she insisted she needed medicine. The purple kind. It's "gwape," you know.

But every time we asked her to point to where on her head hurt, the location changed. It was a moving target headache, of the preschool kind.

Nah, we didn't give in. I tried to tell her the story of the Boy Who Cried Wolf. But I think it was lost on her.

Muffins with Mom- Parts I and II

Each year Casey was in preschool, his class hosted a Mother's Day tea. I don't really need the whole sit-down-and-have-your-three-year-old-serve-you-grape-juice-and-hope-they-don't-dump-it-on-your-work-clothes event or anything. But I liked the idea that the preschool did something. Marcie's class sent home gifts (which was thoughtful). Honestly, I would've preferred a show of sorts.

It doesn't really matter, of course.

And the school did host a Muffins with Mom morning. Here we are, enjoying our miniature muffins:

The sun was shining. Marcie's smile was brilliant. Really, what more can a mother ask for?

The next morning, Casey's school hosted Muffins with Mom, as well. The Dads' group actually did all the set up and presented moms with poems as we walked in. It was a bit overwhelming-- well over 500 people attended. Here I am with Casey at school later that morning:


But the best part wasn't the PTA program. It was Casey's class performance. The kids came out and sat us individually. At our place was a small muffin and some fruit. The kids made each of us a picture and a story about why they loved us. (In case you're wondering, I'm loved because I make cookies.) Then the 35 minute show began. And it was quite a performance. There are limits, you know, to how much video you can put up. So I've selected my favorite one (because Casey starred in it). He's been singing the song (mumbling, really) for weeks, and when I'd ask him to sing it for me, he'd tell me no. It was worth the wait:

I must say, Casey is quite expressive. Check him out:

Despite the long hours I've spent working, I still managed to make it to the show- and boy am I glad!