I turned 33 this week–I’m almost a third of a century old!

I spent the morning of my birthday chaperoning my daughter’s class on a fieldtrip. They went to the Orange County Performing Arts Center to watch the Disneyland Band perform. The kids found it hard to sit through the William Tell Overture (picture 2400 children in a concert hall on plush cushions simultaneously discovering that they are really sitting on galloping horses) and I found it hard to sit through the blatant advertising (”how many of you would like to go to Disneyland!?”) We sat together on the bus and she dictated while I transcribed her speech for the upcoming elections for class president.

Later on the same day, I watched my son’s first public performance as a cellist in his school’s winds ensemble. I can’t describe the feeling of watching your own child produce a thing of beauty (in concert with a hundred of their classmates). I didn’t think it possible, but I believe I’ve reached parental pride capacity. It’s a good feeling.