So a couple weeks ago Matthew started a new routine when he disagrees with me on what he should and shouldn’t be allowed to do.

It goes something like this:
Mommy: No, Matthew, you can’t watch the Wiggles 14 times in a row. It’s done.
MattyMatt: (Wrinkles nose, turns lips out and breathes audibly, with a huge smile of defiance in his eyes.) No! Poo-poo Face!
Mommy: Matthew, that is potty talk and you must go to the bathroom if you want to talk like that. (Picks Matthew up and carries him to the bathroom.)

OK, OK. That’s not actually how I respond. What I actually do when he says “poo-poo face,” challenging me with every ounce of his being, is laugh. And then I say it right back to him. I can’t help it. It is absolutely adorable when he says it. It comes directly from big brother Jared, I know, although Jared would never say it to me. I just hear him say it to his friends when they’re talking nonsense.

So, I am a bad bad mommy. I laugh and say poo-poo face. I am hoping this will somehow take the defiance out of the word and render it harmless. Meanwhile, I hide the Wiggles until tomorrow.

I started this blog 2 years ago this month. I have a pathetic 44 entries. Oh well, I guess that’s almost 2 per month. But maybe I should step it up on the memory tracking. Some mommies write their children a letter every year on their birthday. Some mommies make elaborate scrapbooks of every event.

Today the boys had a music concert. Jared performed with the 3 and 4 yr olds and Ethan was with the 4s and 5s. Some of the parents were video taping the entire concert. I just can’t see the point of this. In 20 years, who will want to sit through 40 minutes of their child staring into space while teachers they barely remember try to get them to engage? OK, in a week who will want to, raise your hand! However, it probably would have been good to get a few minutes of each child to send to the relatives who couldn’t be there. Sorry relatives.

Instead I’ll have to describe it.

Jared’s concert was at 10 with about 20 other kids. I think this was his first big performance. He was composed, not nervous or scared. He was singing along quite confidently for the first half of the show. However, about halfway through the show he got mad about something. He crossed his arms, wouldn’t stand up for the songs, refused to sing and just looked a bit sullen. Apparently he wanted to do the dancing number that the 2nd class got to do, instead of the one his class was assigned. How do I teach him that he’s not hurting anyone but himself? It’s ok to be angry or think something isn’t fair… but you have to move on! I guess he comes by it honestly on both sides of his family, poor thing. I welcome suggestions on teaching this lesson!

Ethan’s group was at 11 with about 30 other children. Ethan, who is not using his voice well (sings from his chest and throat and can’t stay in key or pitch) gave, as always, very animated performances and enjoyed every minute of stage time.

I’m not sure what Ethan got out of class this year. His rhythm didn’t really improve, and his vocal performance wasn’t a focus at all. I wonder if I would’ve done better to just get him monthly or bi-weekly private music lessons. Next year his age group will start on piano and recorder and reading notes. I guess I can work on vocal production and hearing notes with him myself. A year ago or so, when we were still in Hercules, I bought a couple books to teach music and was doing it weekly until Matthew started pounding on the piano every time I sat down to do it. I guess I can start that up again since Matthew is definitely teachable now. (Meaning, presumably I can teach him to not pound on the piano during the lesson or he will be removed from the room!)

***

Matthew, unrelated subject, got himself a bowl, pulled out the cereal, opened the cereal bag and poured himself a modest amount without spilling but one flake. !!!

We usually walk to Ethan’s school in the morning. Well, Matthew would prefer to be walking, but he gets distracted every 10 feet so he has to be walked in the stroller. But Jared and Ethan walk.

Actually, sometimes they run. They have races to the next pole, or sign post.

Sometimes they play spy games where they hide behind fences and bushes, looking for enemies and trying to surprise Matthew and me.

Sometimes they do fighting moves the whole way, with their hands in perpetual karate defense chops and their bodies crouching and leaping into turning kicks.

Sometimes they let me teach them about the trees we see, learning the difference between needles and leaves, pines, redwoods and willows, and the season’s changes.

Sometimes they walk closely, Ethan’s arm over Jared’s shoulder and Jared’s arm around Ethan’s waist, discussing cartoons and movies or making up rules for new games.

Occasionally they trudge along behind me whining that their legs are tired.

But usually they have fun.