In concert

Among Greta's very favorite make-believe things to do is "going to a concert." Here's how it works: First she gets the stroller and pushes it over to the landing that leads upstairs. Parks it there. Then she grabs a doll or a stuffed animal, or two or three. And she sits them down on the landing, where the floor elevates. Next she gets a snack. Tiny boxes of raisins are the current rage. Now she gets sunblock, so her guests don't suffer. "But what kind of concert is this?" we always ask. And that prompts her to get the xylophone Aunt Sara gifted her for Christmas. Everything properly staged, she starts inviting people. Sometimes me, sometimes Carey, sometimes both of us. Usually Lincoln. So we sit in the pretend amphitheater, waiting for the concert to start. But I've done this more than a dozen times so far and still haven't heard any music. Once I grabbed the mallet and started beating a tune on the xylophone, but was told, "Wait, Daddy. We're waiting for the concert." Maybe she hears it in her head?

Anyway, that anecdote is a prelude to Tuesday night, when we dragged Greta and her brother to an outdoor performance by "The Commandant's Own" United States Marine Drum & Bugle Corps at Iwo Jima. A patriotic medley, a 007 movie medley and a bizarre marching band rendition of James Blunt's "You're Beautiful." Greta loved it, at one point standing up and marching in place. But after the band came a silent drill team and silent is not a word associated with 2-year-olds. Greta kept belting out "Row, Row, Row Your Boat" while they silently drilled! Frankly, I was disappointed the audience didn't join in. We could have started a hell of a round.