Becoming a patron of the arts.

I’m hoping that as Edda grows up, she will learn to turn her love of Barney, ABBA, and the Avenue Q soundtrack (a little inappropriate for little kids, I know, but she can’t talk, so she won’t be telling) into a love of live music. Right now, it’s a sure bet that we won’t last a whole performance (we get persistent whining a lot of the time), but I figure a regular exposure to live music will someday lead Edda to sit through a whole high school performance of Grease (or at least learn that auditorium seats are a nice place to take a nap).

This weekend, Edda and I went to see a live performance of the Baltimore’s Men’s Choir. It was at the church, I figured it would be pretty low-key, there was a sound-proof crying room to retreat to and also we could just turn home if we needed to.

Started by being asleep in the main concert hall:


and then retreated to the crying room.


Jeremy had made fun of me for dressing Edda in a dress and then stretchy capri pants that did not match the day before, so on this day, I went way in the other direction which, at home, looked OK to me, but when we were out an about, I realized that Edda was showing way too much leg (there were shorts under there… they were just short shorts).


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