Conscrete

I just finished tucking my precious children into bed after attending an An Dochas concert.
I've taken Lucas the past 3 years and the year before that in utero. Every year he's loved it. As we waited for the concert to begin, he sat wide-eyed and smashing his hands over his ears and munching an apple,while Abrianna visited with Danielle ( a friend whom I've known since her babyhood).
The light dimmed and music came on way too loud- I don't think I've ever attended a concert where the volume wasn't loud. Abrianna jumped in fright and began to wail. Only mommy would do now. Lucas scrunched as close to me as he could get without getting out of his seat.
Then the Irish cloggers came leaping onto the stage, looking like so many puppets who's legs are controlled by strings. Now Lucas was fascinated. The hands came off the ears and he perched on the armrest leaning forward with interest.
Abrianna didn't share Lucas' enthusiasm. She clung to me, pressing her little head to my chest. I placed a hand over her ear and she quickly journeyed to the land of knod where she remained for the remainder of our time there.
I left about 9:00. The concert was supposed to last until 10:00. Way too late for little kids needing their rest.
After getting everybody ready for bed, I asked Lucas what he wanted to tell Jesus that he was thankful for today. He said, "the concrete!" "What is the concrete?" I wondered. Then it dawned on me, "Do you mean the concert?" "Yes, the conscrete!"
Then he kept telling me wanted to go back and asking if I was going back when I left his room. "No" I assured him. I wasn't going back to the "concrete or conscrete" whichever you prefer.