Molly’s been taking singing lessons for a couple of months now. She’s been practising one song over and over for a Christmas concert. She’s quite good at singing.
There’s a Talent Show organised at her school next week. She signed up to perform. She’s going to sing, right? That one song that she’s been practising for months, right?
No. She plans to play the guitar.
-But you can’t play the guitar, Molly! You only started learning and you never practice and you really, really suck at it. -No, I don’t! -Yes, you do. Why don’t you sing the song you already know? -Because I don’t like being too good at things (What?! She’s not “too good” at anything!). I decided already, I’ll play the guitar. -But what will you play? You don’t know any of the songs! -I’ll write my own song. I already wrote a Christmas song called “Look how happy the others are”, but that one’s not very good. I’ll write a better one today.
Molly definitely won’t be “too good” at whatever that’s going to be and I’m very happy I won’t get to witness that shipwreck of her improvised performance. On the other hand, I’m quite impressed that she doesn’t seem to care what others think. At. All. I’ll just pretend that the Talent Show doesn’t exist and we can all continue to live happily and anxiety-free ever after.
When Oskar wakes up in the morning, shrieking of joy and excitement at the new day ahead, my first thought is: “Please let it be at least six o’clock.” My second thought is: “Please don’t let him wake the other two kids up.”
I’m not sure who I’m discussing this with in my head, but today s/he decided “Nope and nope. It’s 5:15 and say hello to your other kids”.
I sent Molly and Benny back to bed, but I knew it was hopeless. They “couldn’t sleep” because they “decided to sleep in Benny’s bed because it’s warmer (?) and Benny kept turning and licking his hands (?!)”.
I feel sorry for their teachers today. And I’m too tired to feel sorry for myself.
Holding a baby who’s simultaneously clingy and fidgety feels a lot like wrestling with a ten kilo tiger cub. We’ve been up every hour through the night and then wide awake since 5:15. Oskar must be teething. Or gaining another skill. Or going through a growth spurt. Or something. Or nothing. It’s a phase. It’s a phase. It’s just a phase.
-Molly, you said you were going to tidy up the table when you finish drawing.
-I couldn’t do it because I was in time-out!*
-You’re not in time-out anymore!
-No, but now I have to do my homework.
-You don’t have school for another three days!
-So you’re saying tidying up is more important than school?