Our Little Angel

Christmas is so very special. Especially in small communities and close families. The Celebrations in our Churches are filled with contata's, Christmas carols, choirs, and the pagentry that only small children can carry out.
Sunday, in our little Church, the childrens choir marched in, followed by the little narrators, Mary and Joseph, (both about 2 and half foot tall), and the angels. Three of them. White robes with gold, rope tinsel trim, and wings with gold tinsel trim. The last little angel was our little angel. My three year old Granddaughter. She likes to play the shy type, which she isn't. She walked down the center aisle behind the first two angels until she saw Grandpa seated by the aisle. She detoured, stood in front of me, proudly pulled her outfit out at the armpits, and with gusto said, "See Grandpa". She then saw my son seated by me, who is from out of town, and Grandma, and Mom at the piano. We all got the big smile and "See". As the rest of the procession was lined up, in front, she slowly shuffled down the row, between pews. "See"!
Finally up front, while the wise men, and shepherds, and the other angels paid their respect to Baby Jesus, our little angel, went over to show her outfit to her 6 year old brother in the choir. She was finally corralled, and placed where little angels are supposed to be. In a row.
Looking straight ahead, and shifting her eyes right and left, she slowly went down to her hands and knees, and crawled around behind the barn, where the Christ Child lay. The problem is that her wings were about twelve inches wider than the hole she went through. Everyone finally left the stage, and about 2 minutes later a teacher returned and went around behind the barn and retrieved our little angel. Wings hanging from one side.
The peculiar thing is that our family, and those who know this little Miss Independent, are probably the only ones who noticed what was going on. But it was all consuming to us. I don't know how the choir sounded, I was too busy thinking, "I know that little girl, this isn't 'type casting.'