Of the many things school has added to our lives, one in particular stands out.
In Graham’s early weeks of school, he came home and reported that they had sang a song about a school bus. “Clink clink,” he said. “Bus goes clink clink!”
I figured out where he was going and obliged him by singing, “The coins on the bus go clink clink clink.” He was delighted.
“Just like at school!” he exclaimed. “Bus go clink clink clink!”
We reenacted this scene again when he reported they sang a song about “[unintelligible] spider!” He was bowled over by my Itsy Bitsy Spider, complete with hand motions.
But after an early love affair with singing school songs, he changed his mind. If I asked him, “What songs did you sing at school?” he’d reply, “Don’t talk to me.” (This means he doesn’t want to discuss it.)
I love singing, so it’s always been hard that Graham has an aversion to songs and music and anyone singing near him. Still, I see signs of change.
When left to his own devices, Graham has started singing absently to himself while he plays.
“Sunday Monday Tuesday Wednesday Thursday Friday Saturday” one minute. ”Twinka twinka litta star,” the next.
I felt sad the other day after I had this conversation on Twitter.
While I was planning this all out, part of me inside was already mourning the fact that I would never be able to have silly puppet shows of The Sound of Music with my kids. Why was I imagining Graham as Dick Van Dyke when it would never happen?
Which makes absolutely no sense. The future hasn’t happened yet, so why do I decide what’s possible and what’s not?
I need to set a new goal.
I am not going to let myself keep grieving over what’s been lost. Because it’s not over. There are years ahead of us. There is still time to sing songs. I need to remember that.
And a special treat: Grammer singing Twinkle Twinkle. (While Tessa bounces in her jumper so you can’t really hear.)