Our Friday morning had a lovely, smooth beginning. (Post-lunch til bed was mildly shaky, but everyone is sacked-out now so, Phew.) Heath played "boats" in the tub. We went for a warm run. Drew with sidewalk chalk on the driveway. And played "treehouse" in the back yard until lunchtime.
While Heath and Stella were enjoying their lunch of fish sticks and applesauce, I thought I would do some musing outloud with them about summer plans. It is quickly approaching. With just about five weeks left of preschool we will soon embark on the journey, Heath and Stella: Summer Breakin' 2: Electric Bugaloo. And if I've learned anything in the last year, I've learned I better have a plan. And it better be good.
Our neighborhood pool is a definite must-do. Last summer it provided loads of fun in the sun time. Splashing in the baby pool definitely kept Heath a happy camper. And Stella did some serious changing during that time. At the beginning of the summer, she would mellowly kick back in her stroller, content to watch the goings-on. Then she progressed to just sitting on towel, poolside, gnawing on boats and ring-tosses and plastic fins. By August, she was wading in her own floating device, circling round and round the babypool, feeling very much like she was a full participant, and very much like a big girl. And they would both take unbelievably long, recharging naps in the afternoon. It was beautiful. We are very much on again for much pool time this summer.
I've been considering a possible camp at Heath's school, but that is only one week out of the summer, and just for Heath. As an infant and through toddlerhood, Heath and I did quite a few music classes. And last year, I did one with Stella while Heath was at preschool. But I've been kicking around the idea of signing up for a class for the three of us to do together.
So I mentioned these ideas outloud today, while we ate. Heath eagerly agreed with the pool. And with camp. He even tossed out the idea that we continue to make it to the park, and we have to go back to the beach. I told him those were both doable. Then I mentioned the music class. I told him we would sing and dance and play instruments.
He thought a minute, then said, No, I'm just a big boy.
You are a big boy, but big boys can sing, too.
No, just girls and ladies can be singers.
I wondered where he got this idea, then decided I should just give him an example of a male singer. Every morning on the way to go school, Heath makes the request, Play Look at My Life. He's referring to Neil Young's Old Man.
So I said, The song you like, Look at My Life, that's a man singing. Neil Young, he's a big boy and he sings.
He stirred his applesauce around, contemplating. Are you friends with Neil Young?
No, we're not friends. I felt a little sad reporting this, and curious as to where this was going, hoping it would end with some music class enthusiasm.
But the conversation was abruptly ended. Stella was busy shoving applesauce in two new locations. Her belly button and her ears.
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