A few weeks ago both girls did their piano guild auditions. In another few weeks, they both have their dance recitals. Both things require practice and commitment. Both girls did fine at their auditions. And I’m sure they will do fine at their recital. But I had the nagging sense, in my mind, that they could have done better. They could have practiced more, worked on those rough spots more. It bothered me that they couldn’t or didn’t see this. They were happy with their performances and shrugged off any mistakes.
Why was I getting upset? Why did I care more than they did?
Which is ridiculous and mostly just me projecting my baggage onto them. I’m sure they will learn to care more as they mature but they are also kids and, I often forget, feel and interpret things differently than me. And my adult way isn’t necessarily right or more correct. A kid’s innocence shouldn’t be corrupted too early.
Maybe I should take that lesson and shrug more things off, too.
I need to crowdsource an answer. There is an ongoing disagreement about wages in our house. We have begun to pay Cecilia an allowance for doing things around the house. I’ll admit I’m a little…frugal. I see some valid points in Scrooge and Marley’s business practices.
Honestly, other than emptying the dishwasher and occasionally walking Dash, it’s mostly things she either was already doing or needed to do anyway, such as practice her instruments and do her homework. The crucial fine print: do it all without complaining. And to be fair, most days she has gotten down to business when she gets home. That has been a real welcome maturation. Now, I’m all about teaching them the value of a dollar, so how much would you pay a 10 year old for those services?
Part of Cecilia’s birthday present, along with her faster-than-light pink bike, was tickets to Annie at the Wang in Boston. The fact that it was also Mother’s Day was just a happy coincidence and win-win for me.
I’m not sure why everyone we told assumed I was staying home. As if a man of my wit and wisdom couldn’t appreciate a classic Broadway musical.
Of course, I was going. I’d endured the cast recording and my children’s renditions for the past three weeks at the very least I could hear them live if only to verify that the Ally-approved lyric (sung at top volume) “bet your dollar bottom” was not, in fact, correct.
We started the day with waffles because 2 kids, careful measurements and piping hot metal couldn’t go wrong.