Skip to main content

Joshua

 I had my doubts about music class with the baby. A big benefit seems to be social time, but the kid can't really socialize if he is in a Covid bubble.

Also, can you learn anything about music if you're *one* year of age?

But I attended lessons because (a) this was my husband's ardent wish and (b) a part of me was curious. That part of me was delighted--off and on. Being in baby music lessons was like stepping into an asylum. The babies stare off, glassy-eyed; sometimes, they shriek. Their nannies covertly check little iPhone screens. Basically, no dad ever, ever attends--and here I am bragging. My husband and I were DADS OF THE MILLENNIUM.

A teacher--with extraordinary grace and patience and energy--would dust off her tambourine week after week, and she would ignore the stratospheric thermometer readings, and she would work for her money. She would shout at us about galloping ponies, burping frogs, twinkling stars. Around the thirty-minute mark, each class, she'd get tired, and then we'd all just revert to Baby Shark, or Harry Styles, or (one day) Madonna.

Did my son learn? To my amazement, I think the answer is yes. He will now drum on his stomach, with just a little prompting. And I've been inspired to play Aaron Copland for him. Also, he "made a commitment" to a class, and he showed up on a regular basis. There's something of value in that, I think.

Maybe we'll all do this again, in a non-plague-era.

In the meantime, we're enjoying our new tunes.
Labels:

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

How to Host a Baby

-You have assumed responsibility for a mewling, puking ball of life, a yellow-lab pup. He will spit his half-digested kibble all over your shoes, all over your hard-cover edition of Jennifer Haigh's novel  Faith . He will eat your tables, your chairs, your "I {Heart] Montessori" magnet, placed too low on the fridge. When you try to watch Bette Davis in  Hush Hush Sweet Charlotte , on your TV, your dog will bark through the murder-prologue, for no apparent reason. He will whimper through Lena Dunham's  Girls , such that you have to rewind several times to catch every nuance of Andrew Rannells's ad-libbing--and, still, you'll have a nagging suspicion you've missed something. Your dog will poop on the kitchen floor, in the hallway, between the tiny bars of his crate. He'll announce his wakefulness at 5 AM, 2 AM, or while you and another human are mid-coitus. All this, and you get outside, and it's: "Don't let him pee on my tulips!" When...
3 comments
Read more

Joshie

  When I was growing up, a class birthday involved Hostess cupcakes. Often, the cupcakes would come in a shoebox, so you could taste a leathery residue (during the party). Times change. You can't bring a treat into a public school, in 2024, because heaven knows what kind of allergies might lurk, in unseen corners, in the classroom. But Joshua's teacher will allow: a dance party, a pajama day, or a guest reader. I chose to bring a story for Joshua's birthday (observed), but I didn't think through the role that anxiety might play in this interaction. We talk, in this house, quite a bit about anxiety; one game-changer, for J, has been a daily list of activities, so that he knows exactly what to expect. He gets a look of profound satisfaction when he sees the agenda; it doesn't really matter what the specific events happen to be. It's just about knowing, "I can anticipate X, Y, and Z." Joshua struggled with his celebration. He wore his nervousness on his f...
2 comments
Read more

Josh at Five

 Joshie's project is "flexibility"; the goal is to see that a plan is just an idea, not a gospel, not a guarantee. This is difficult. Yesterday, we went to a restaurant--billed as "open," with unlocked doors--and the owner informed us of an "error in advertising." But Joshie couldn't accept the word "closed." He threw himself on the floor, then climbed on the furniture. I felt for the owner, until he nervously made a reference to "the glass windows." He imagined that my child might toss himself through a sealed window, like Mary Katherine Gallagher, or like Bruce Willis, in "Die Hard." Then--thank the Lord!--I was able to laugh. The thing that really has therapeutic value for Joshie is: a firetruck. If we are out in public, and he spots a parked truck, he wants to climb on each surface. He breathlessly alludes to the wheels, the door, the windows. If an actual fire station ("fire ocean," in Joshie's parla...
Post a Comment
Read more