Our three-year-old, Clane, has a preschool music program this week. That should go well.
Clane is an outspoken opponent of music and joyful sounds of all sorts. Should any of us so much as hum a tune in his presence, we will be met with great, often violent resistance.
Last winter, I sang at the funeral of Autumn’s grandmother. A few bars into the song, Clane stood up on the church pew with his hands over his ears, yelling, “STOP SINGING!!”
I suggested that we skip this concert altogether. My wife thought that would be rude.
Funny, I thought having our son scream at the other children in the idle of a song might be considered rude. Can you tell I’m still holding a grudge?
“I just hope he sings,” my wife said at dinner last night.
“Me too,” I replied, “I can’t wait to see the look on his face when I stand up on my chair and start screaming for him to stop.”