It was one of those spur-of- the-moment things: Three sets of parents decided that we should get our families together for a cozy sit-down dinner at the local eatery to ring in the holiday season.

The hope was that it would give our girls an opportunity to hang out for the evening while the parents could break bread together and lament the trials and tribulations of raising the modern preteen girl.

Actually, that is not exactly true. Our goal was never to discuss parenting and the commensurate triumphs and tragedies. In fact, the objective was to get the girls together, let them entertain each other while we waxed on about other things in our lives besides the kids.

You know ... adult stuff.

However, as most parents can attest, it is rare for conversation to drift far from hearth and home, and this night was no exception. Of course, the fact that our three little angels could barely keep it below 90 decibels made conversing about anything a challenge.

Still, the meal went off without a hitch, and soon it was time to leave.

The girls asked if they could ride home together in one car, and the parents agreed.

This was a real win-win situation: The girls got to continue the fun and games, and two "lucky" sets of parents got complete silence for the entire ride home. For both groups, kids and adults, it was like being chosen as a contestant on "The Price is Right." The only difference is that for the parents, it was as if someone pressed the mute button. Silence is golden.

As fate would have it, the girls all hopped into the DeMattos vehicle. We were like the Partridge Family, minus the checkerboard bus and the singing. No singing, that is, until I turned on the radio.

As it turned out, Carrie Underwood was belting out her mega-hit "Jesus Take the Wheel," and that is when the magic happened. There was a sudden, piercing scream joined shortly by two more glass-shattering wails and then silence. But only for a moment.

Soon all three girls were singing with Carrie and, if I dare say, they harmonized well.

It was amazing — they went from cacophony to symphony in mere seconds.

Up until I turned on the radio, our girls seemed like an orchestra tuning up before taking the stage. They were all talking at once, yet each was somehow able to track the separate conversations without missing a beat. They looked like Wall Street traders minus the PeptoBismol and nitroglycerin tablets.

It was complete and utter chaos, or so I thought.

Then a song came on the radio and their separate voices became one. They sang as if no one were listening. They were their own choir, proud and joyous, eyes sparkling, reveling in the moment.

It dawned on me then that I had seen that look before, earlier at dinner. Amid the apparent chaos, there was order after all. They were not an orchestra tuning up, they were a jazz ensemble performing separate but simultaneous solos.

Then in the car, they came together in perfect harmony and I saw the power of these three girls.

They were cutting their teeth, perfecting their chops and then, when the opportunity arose, they took the stage without fear.

These girls are ready to make some noise, and I, for one, am ready for the show.

Michael DeMattos is a faculty member of the University of Hawai'i School of Social Work. He lives in Kane'ohe with his wife, daughter and two dogs.