A little bit of validation

There are times when I’m worried that I am not a good mother. This is, I’m sure, something all mothers go through (all mothers who want to be good mothers, anyway). The fact that Hobbes is 3 and a half now, but has yet to start an instrument, can’t read, and only speaks one language makes me worry about his future. Because, you know, he’s already 3 and that means there’s only 13 more years to prepare before he has to start applying to colleges.

Then I have moments like last night. Amazon delivered a DVD I’d ordered, a “movie”-like rendition of La Cenerentola, and in the middle of building a wooden block castle with Hobbes that evening, I decided I wanted to watch it. The Guy popped it into the player, and the music started.

And Hobbes put down the blocks and crawled into my lap, and immediately started demanding a translation for all the Italian.

And then he started offering his own opinions about the music.

And then, after Act I was done, we had the following conversation.

“We can watch the rest of it tomorrow, honey. It’s too late tonight.”

“I want more opera.”

“Tomorrow. We can watch the rest of it tomorrow.”

“I want more opera!”

“No. It’s late. I can tell you what happens in the next part, how’s that? And we can listen to it tomorrow. Did you like the music?”

“Yes. But Mommy–!”

“No, dear.”

More opera now!

I can’t deny it, I felt pretty proud of him. “Good boy,” I said. “No.” Obviously I’m doing something right, when I can have an argument with my son about opera. I’d been worried about that. What if he’d inherited his music appreciation traits from his father? My God, the man doesn’t even get Aaron Copeland, for crying out loud. What’s not to get? Why did I marry him again?

Hobbes scowled at me.

“Tomorrow,” I said. “Not tonight.”

He eventually surrendered, with ill grace, then immediately forgot about the subject in the distraction of making his parents cart him upstairs as the cross-piece in a familial capital-H.

“Look at him,” said the Guy, as we carted him upstairs. “Our future metrosexual.”

Damn straight.

1 comment on this post.
  1. Pam:


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