Choir Practice At Grandma's

My grandmother on my father's side was holding a choir practice, together with dad, and the rest of his siblings. They, as well as I, were all in their twenties, and we were going to rehearse the song "när jag var en ung soldat". Grandma Ingrid, or "Ing" as she lovingly was called, was behind the piano and the rest of us sat down to sing. Me and dad were in the back. Ingrid gave everyone the same starting key except for me, as if I was supposed to be the only one with a harmony. Being the only professional singer in the room, this didn't surprise me. As we started singing, I was struggling a little bit with finding the tune, as it was new to me. I tried a classical approach to the sound, but my dad kept giving me sideway glances.

When the music stopped and grandma started going over some things with the front rows, my dad told me to stop messing around. I first thought that he didn't like my classical take on the sound, but it seemed as if he just didn't want me to sing yet, as if it was time for the others to sing first. I told him that I had already gotten a key to start with, so I figured I might start to try and make my way through the song, as I was sitting in the back. Even the text was new for me, so it seemed good to try and sing along at my best. In the meantime in the front, grandma seemed to start to be a little annoyed with us, chattering in the back, as well as over the slow progress the rest were making. I felt that dad was stealing my focus, so I decided to move up to the front. Dad followed, however.

Sitting down near the front rows, where three of dad's siblings were sitting (it was quite a big room with only dad, me, grandma, grandpa, and dad's three siblings in, so no real reason for me and dad to be so far away), grandma wanted to start over from the top. As she lay the start chord, however, dad interrupted.
"Mom, mom!"
"Yes?"
She was clenching her teeth, clearly annoyed by now.
"You should be grateful towards me" dad continued, standing next to me, "because Hjalmar almost sang 'klätterman' instead of 'flottarman'".
She looked at me at this point.
"We will have none of that" she told me, "you will sing the right words or you will get out".
"Of course" I said, quite unperturbed by neither my dad's telling on me, nor grandma telling me off. "Still, this song is completely new to me, and we are rehearsing, after all. Some words do get wrong from time to time, but that's what rehearsal is for - to make it perfect".

I remembered the many times me or my colleagues have lost the words on stage, occasionally stumbling or unintentionally replacing them with something else, even after having performed the piece a hundred times. Grandma wasn't convinced, however, and almost lost her words. There was a quite tense atmosphere in the room, as grandma apparently was quite stern and all her children was eager to please. It was quite clear that no one responded to her this way. She looked at dad, telling him that I was his child and that he should teach me discipline. He gestured towards me, acting frustrated and powerless as if nothing helped. I think he even might have been stomping the ground.

Grandma turned back towards me.
"I should give you a beating for that" she said quite menacingly.
"Yes, do that and I'll floor you straight back" I replied with a little smile.
The room fell silent.
"Oh, come on grandma" I continued. "Let's stop this nonsense. We could be doing this all night or we could rehearse our song".