I spent a wonderful morning being serenaded by the first graders at The Kid's school. They were so sweet. They sang their songs and told jokes and we, the parents, all smiled and laughed and cried. Well, maybe not all the parents cried, but I cried, I always do.
What became immediately evident, as The Kid sang his way through the song his class performed, is The Kid did not inherit the stage ham gene. He was very serious, mildly uncomfortable. He dutifully sang but did not once crack a smile. I, on the other hand, was singing solos in church choirs when I was his tender age. I sang all over my childhood. I still remember the name of the girl who beat me out of the soprano solo in O Holy Night in fifth grade choir. (Lisa Felty, are you out there?)
This is one of the wonders of parenthood: to have a child so like you in a million different ways, and so distinctly their own person, so totally different from you in a million other ways.
I grew up in an abusive, scary home. My childhood was frightening and I'm a product of that. The little girl unafraid to belt it out in front of a hundred people was also terrified of having to go home afterwards. My child doesn't know that kind of fear. He has a happy home and when his parents occasionally bicker about something like who is supposed to change the battery in his toothbrush, he happily puts them in a time out. He's got it good and I'm glad. I want nothing less for him.
So, he does not enjoy singing for a crowd. He loves math (shudder) and bugs and picking up odd pieces of plastic garbage, bringing it home and calling it treasure. These are things he did not get from me. From me he got his tender heart that can be moved to tears by music, his love of books and his crazy temper.
The Holiday Happening was great. Not only did I get wished a Merry Christmas but it showed me a little piece of who my boy is becoming. I am very proud of him, and when I picked him up today he said he really enjoyed the show. He didn't smile, because he was too busy singing.
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This is great. My oldest complains from time to time that nobody pays enough attention to him or that we're unfair (compared to how his younger sibs are treated). I listen to this and am thankful that his kvetching is the normal stuff- the comparisons and complaints kids SHOULD have, rather than the neglect and meanness that defined my experience of 'family' as a child. Lovely post.
ReplyDeleteThanks, Mary. Have a wonderful holiday!
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