Ally pulled out my old trumpet this week. She’s done this occasionally in the past but really stuck with it this week. Each day she’d pull it out and march around the house, playing. Or pretending to. Or trying to. She is surprisingly good at getting a natural sound out, but it’s… a bit unrefined. She has no problem with volume however.
By the third day, I started to step in and offer help. I could show her scales, look up lessons on YouTube, or help with her posture. Then I stopped. She was happy. She was learning in her own way. She was enjoying herself. What else really mattered? There would be plenty of time for tone, proper finger position, and breathing exercises. There was no need for efficiency, or optimization, or Dad’s critiques. Not yet.
Help them find what they love even if it might threaten your long-term hearing.
This is my favorite beach house or summer vacation recipe. It’s inexpensive, quick to make, yet feels indulgent and fancy. You can customize the broth to your liking or whatever you find in the pantry.
It’s even relatively healthy (mussels are really high in selenium). You can make a big pot, warm up some bread, and throw together a green salad in less than 30 minutes. Perfect after a long day in the sun.
We crossed the border yesterday and the girls learned an important new term: international data plan. You need to pony up some extra money to keep Spotify, Netflix and tablets running in Canada.
We made it to Prince Edward Island yesterday and Michelle is living her dream. Even without the help of some fortifying wine, I’m pretty sure she believes she has walked onto the set of Anne of Green Gables.
You don’t have to squint very hard to be transported back a hundred years. Outside of a few areas, the lack of development is both startling and refreshing. It’s large blocks of pines, tracts of farms and open views to the water.
Not a bad place to spend a week of vacation. Unplugged, unhurried and uninterested in anything resembling normal responsibilities.
That’s how the rest of the week will go (along with bottomless cocktails, long meals and practicing some free-range parenting), but first we had to get to the island….
We have made it past the standardized tests and are closing in on less than a month of school left. I’m feeling pretty good. I’ve got my times tables down cold, I know my open number line strategies and I can recite many interesting facts about Abigail Adams. I think it’s been a good year. I think Cecilia would agree. Of course, one wing of the school could burn down and she would get off the bus, shrug and say her day was fine.
I do admire the way she is rather unflappable in the big moments. That wasn’t me. I did not and do not like the spotlight. Let me ghost through the room and slip out the side door any day. Not Cecilia. She may be quiet, but don’t let that fool you. She is watching and listening.
Big things just don’t shake her. She loves being on stage, whether it’s for dance or as an altar girl at church or taking a big test. The small things, however, like a bee or her bangs growing uneven, or misplaying her scales will throw her off the rails and into a ditch.
Since she is so forthcoming about her day at school, we’ve been spending this week walking home from the bus stop talking about expectations and not letting the frustration and annoyance affect your experiences.
I realize it could take a lifetime to master that little life lesson, but you might as well start on it when you’re young. Could save you a lot of heartache later.