I have such a headache.
This morning started out very nicely. I received an e-mail telling me that I'm "room parent" for Petunia's second grade class, which was really important to her (and thus to me) this year. (The importance is overstated because, for some mysterious reason, last year's class room mother was in the classroom every single day. Petunia noticed. I've explained to Petunia that this does not happen in the second grade.) The Guv then escorted me out of the house to take Dash to school. I was fairly sure that Dash would have a total meltdown at Daddy leaving him at school -- the Guv's been out of town for over a week -- but, as is becoming usual, Dash kissed us both good-bye, hung his stuff in the cubby, and went to play with friends.
I picked up my favorite soy latte, a rare treat these days as I'm trying to slim down a bit, in celebration of this great day. Target beckoned, and I stocked up for Petunia's party on Friday.
And then, at pick-up, Dash's teacher asked me to wait for a few minutes. When the other parents had left, she talked with me about Dash's total meltdown at the very notion of music class. She remembered that I had mentioned that we were Music Together drop-outs and was wondering if Dash might associate some trauma with music. Being born, perhaps? Is this what I get for listening to "Southern Cross" as he entered the world?
The truth is, Dash is surrounded by music every day. I try to play piano daily to combat the arthritis that is creeping into my knuckles. We listen to music in the car, I sing him to nap and to sleep, and his very favorite thing to do right now is to watch Gwen Stefani videos on i-Tunes. Trauma? Perhaps the music teacher isn't a svelte blonde in a skimpy marching band uniform (if you're curious about that one, download the clean "Hollaback Girl" video -- currently Dash's favorite!).
I just plain don't get it. I will sit through the next music session with him -- and perhaps all subsequent ones -- to try to figure it out. Today, the assistant teacher took him for a walk while the other kids had their 20-minute jam session. I don't want him to distract the other children with his crying, but I don't want him to have the option to opt out, either.
Today, we'll both nap... after a little "Hollaback Girl" and "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star."
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