Primary program

The annual primary program at church is always one of my favorite points of the year--I love watching the kids get up and say their parts, all entirely earnest. (Somehow, it's harder to be cynical and/or sarcastic about what children say--I almost always come away moved by something that was said). This year, however, was a different ballgame. See, Andrew is now *in* the primary program, and where before I could enjoy the performance without any qualms, this time, I had to worry about Andrew (and yes, let's be honest: it's hard to escape the sense that your child's behavior is somehow a reflection on you as a person and a parent).

I realized, yesterday, when I went to the rehearsal for the program, that we had woefully under-prepared Andrew. He knew his two short parts, but we hadn't talked at all about appropriate behavior when one is performing. At the start of the meeting, Andrew rolled all the way down the aisle into the foyer, and then insisted on rolling all the way back. After the rehearsal, we had a little pep talk about things that should not be done during the performance: don't roll on the floor; stay in your chair while people are talking; keep your hands out of your pants.

The good news is, he managed to do the last of these three things. The bad news is that he didn't manage to do either of the others. And I realize that it's hard to sit still for the better part of an hour when you're three . . . but that doesn't help a lot when your kid is the *only* kid who seems congenitally unable to stay in his seat, who rolls (on his stomach) off the platform that the sunbeams (the 3-4 year old class) are seated on, who sits when he should stand, and lays on the ground when he should sit . . . Sigh. At least he got his parts right! And several people told me that he was really cute. Granted, there's almost always at least one of the sunbeams who keeps the audience entertained with his antics--I just hadn't realized that the antics were a lot less funny when it was your kid, and not someone else's.

One of our neighbors told me that he'd heard that 4 was just the terrible twos squared. If that's true, then we may be in for it . . .

. . . and as proof, I offer the following picture. One day this week, Andrew refused to get dressed. Since he likes his pajamas, this wasn't too unusual. However, when I sent him to his room to get dressed, this is what emerged . . . (I'm not sure how much you can see in the picture, but he has underwear on his head, socks on his hands, and at least five pair of underwear layered over the original pair on his bum).



On a more positive note: One day this week, Andrew decided that he and Evelyn needed to watch for their daddy to come home, so he made a little nest out of his blanket and collected a handful of books for them to look at while they waited.


When Dan got home, the kids got their reward: some quality one-on-one time with dad while he read them stories.