Rachel and Olive headed for the room where Rachel's workshop was to be held. Rachel had insisted on arriving an hour before the class started, so Olive didn't quite understand why her mom had been so worried about being late. When they arrived at the room, they found Diane setting up.
"Hi Diane!" Rachel greeted the woman enthusiastically with a hug.
"Rachel! It's so good to see you!" Diane then turned to Olive. "This isn't Olive is it?" the older woman asked. Diane Baker had directed Olive in two productions at the Hudson: The Sound of Music when she was five, and The Miracle Worker when she was eight. After nearly a decade, Olive definitely looked different from how she looked in second grade.
"Yes it is," Rachel answered proudly. Olive could feel her cheeks getting red. For someone who loved being the center of attention - she sure felt uncomfortable being the center of attention right now.
"How old are you now, dear?" Diane asked Olive.
"I just turned sixteen," Olive replied.
"Sixteen going on seventeen!" Diane feigned shock. Rachel laughed and Olive politely laughed along. She had nothing against Diane - she had always loved working with her; Olive just felt so awkward right now.
"And how's Jesse?" Diane asked. Okay, good. She wanted to talk about Dad now.
"He's great!" Rachel replied. "And actually…we have another little one now."
"Oh my goodness!" Diane nearly jumped in excitement. Olive wasn't sure she had ever seen someone so enthusiastic upon finding out a couple they were slightly acquainted with had reproduced a second time.
Rachel seemed startled at Diane's reaction. Diane composed herself.
"Sorry," she laughed. "What is your newest addition's name?"
Rachel laughed too. "Clementine Jessica. She'll be three this summer."
"Oh, how cute! Rachel Berry St. James - you are a marvel. I don't know how you do it - Broadway, motherhood, being a wife."
"Thanks, Diane, but I certainly don't do it alone. Jesse is a wonderful husband and father, and Olive is a great daughter and sister." Olive smiled.
"So," Diane clapped her hands, suddenly changing the subject. "You'll have a class of 8 including Olive. The other students should start arriving around 9:00. Their name tags are over here on this table - as you can see, you both also have name tags." Rachel and Olive found their respective name tags and stuck them on their shirts.
"Is there anything I can do to help you set up?" Diane asked Rachel.
"I was just going to arrange nine chairs in a circle for introductions," Rachel said.
"I can help you with that," Diane replied. She, Rachel, and Olive had the chairs rearranged in no time.
"Excellent. Michael, our accompanist, will be here after lunch to help when the kids rehearse their solos and the group number. I know this morning will mostly be dedicated to everyone getting to know each other and assigning monologues and so forth. I will be in my office if you need anything - just give a holler!" Diane departed after Rachel thanked her.
"So," Rachel said to Olive, after the two had sat down in two of the nearby chairs. "It's just you and me for the next half-hour. "What do you want to talk about?"
"Is it weird to have a toddler and a teenager at the same time?" Olive asked. It was a question that came seemingly out of nowhere, but she had been curious.
"Kind of. I mean, your dad and I don't know any other way but it certainly is the total opposite ends of the spectrum: we've got one child weeks away from taking her driver's test and the other who needs us to teach her how to use the toilet. God, I wish there was a Driver's Ed equivalent to potty training. Let someone else have at it for once," Olive laughed, Rachel frowned for a moment, reminded of how stressful the whole process had been with Clementine, then joined in.
"You know Oli, we didn't have this issue with you - you were ahead of a lot of your peers with most milestones. But sometimes I wonder if your dad and I are holding Clementine back. She's our youngest child - our last baby. She's five months away from turning 3 but, in addition to the potty training thing which I know varies from child to child - she's still in a high chair and still in a crib. I've asked your dad if we should get her a booster seat and toddler bed but he keeps saying he doesn't think she's ready - and I would always agree with him. But now I'm wondering, is it Clementine who isn't ready or is it us who aren't ready? Nobody wants to admit their child is growing up but it's part of life and denying that isn't going to do a child any favors," Rachel stopped, Olive could see her mother had tears in her eyes.
Olive did too. Mom had never been so open with her, had never been so vulnerable and shared so deeply about what she thought were her shortcomings as a parent. It wasn't that she hadn't made mistakes before, of course. Once, when Olive was four, Rachel came home after a particularly stressful rehearsal to find her daughter had gotten into her brand new makeup. It was the first and only time Rachel had ever yelled at Olive - and then at Jesse for doing what she felt was an inadequate job of watching their daughter - who was supposed to have been napping. Since Olive had never had issues during nap time before, Jesse hadn't even felt the need to check in on her, as he assumed she was asleep.
Rachel had felt awful for yelling at her daughter and husband. After going for a walk to cool down, she tearfully sat down with both of them and apologized, vowing to never do it again.
But Olive had been quite young then. All she had been able to understand was the brief conversation the family had, "I am so sorry for yelling at you. I was mad because you used my makeup without asking, but I still should have talked to you calmly. Next time, please ask me before you use my things, okay?"
Now, though, she felt quite grown up having this conversation with her mother - almost like an adult. Olive gave her mom a hug.
"I love you, Mom," she said.
"I love you too, Oli," Rachel hugged back. A teenage girl entered the room.
"Am I early?" She asked the pair.
Rachel stood up and glanced at the clock. "Oh, I'm sorry. No, no - you're right on time! My name is Rachel Berry St. James and this is my daughter, Olive."
"I'm Naomi," the girl replied.
"Nice to meet you, Naomi. You will find your name tag over there on that table," Rachel said.
"Great, thanks!" Naomi turned to the table.
Rachel turned to Olive and squeezed her shoulder. "It's showtime!"
Olive smiled. This was going to be so much fun.