The Call of the Child

I realize I should have posted this a week ago, but I was putting off figuring out how to use YouTube.

So it came. Finally. After waiting so long, and after having the Missionary Department call us multiple times and tell us it would be here within the week, we thought it would be a little anticlimactic. It wasn't. It was exciting!

First, since we live in a small town in Utah, we get special treatment. The Post Office calls at 7:30 a.m. and says, "We have a mission call for Elder Daltonman here. You can come and pick it up at the service window." And then you get in your car and drive down and pick it up. So funny. And when I got there, the clerk said, "Are you going to Brazil?" And I said, "No." Because I'm not.



So then I put the envelope in my purse, sent text messages to Daltonman and daltonboy at work telling them it had arrived, and carried it around with me for the rest of the day. I didn't trust DM not to come home and open it when no one else was around. Like father, like son, you know. Then I spent the rest of the morning and early afternoon trying to ignore the big envelope in my purse and resisting the temptation to steam it open. Also I tried to get people to hurry home.

Once we finally got all the foot-dragging people to mosey in from school, we sat down for some letter-opening fun.

And this is the part where you might be expecting a YouTube video. After viewing it, I decided maybe it was best left for private family viewing only. Here are the highlights of what you're missing:

• Me, as the videographer, being a total spaz. Shaking the camera, yelling, you name it. Committing every sin in the book.


• Daltonman, opening the letter with a flourish. And a tiny samurai sword.

• Daltonman, as the consummate low talker, mumbling a lot--which makes up about four minutes of the seven-minute video.


• Daltonman, sifting through the papers over and over and looking stunned.


• Daltonman, when asked how he feels, saying, "Uh . . . surprised?"


• Daltonboy, taking a few photos, finding the location on the map, and then disappearing to research Goiania Brazil on the Internet.


• Lola, talking on speakerphone at full volume to Grandma and Grandpa, who had their own conversation going since they couldn't hear what Daltonman was mumbling. Being excited themselves, they said some profound things, like, "He's going to have to learn a language!"
• Daltonman asking "What language do they speak in Brazil?"


• Daltonman, not recognizing the signature at the bottom of the letter. Saying, "Uh . . . some guy whose name I can't read." Looking sheepish when he was set straight.


• Daltonman, asking if we could go get his passport right that minute.


• Busboy, texting a couple of people to give them the news, and then saying, "Well. I can't think of anyone else who would care."

So you see, you really didn't want to watch all that. If you really really did, email me. I'll send it to you.

DM leaves on December 11. Why so late? Because he goes straight to the MTC in Sao Paulo, and has to have his visa before he goes. We will be dropping him off at the airport in Salt Lake, and will thus escape the tearful melodrama that goes on every Wednesday at the Provo MTC. A little disappointing, but whatever.

We went to apply for the passport on Friday. Cicada thought I was being a little obssessive about going so soon. Today we got a letter from the Missionary Department that said something along the lines of, "If you haven't applied for your passport yet, get off your lazy butt and go do it. Right this second!" So I felt vindicated for the freaking out I was doing last week.

Any details I've left out? Let me know. I can make up some more stuff.