I've Got Rhythm..

Finally, John is in a program. He's in a one-hour class called Music Makers. He registered late, well, technically I registered him late so he missed the first 2 classes. I was so worried that he wouldn't like the class or the other kids wouldn't play with him.

Steven has to drop him off and can't enter the classroom. It's rough. On all of us. The first class John cried when Steven left. Steven heard him crying as he walked down the hall. I was working so I told Steven that he could call me after the drop off. And I told John that he could call me when class was done.

I hate that I miss these events in his life. I hate that I don't get to see the joy in his face. I hate that I'm not the one that wipes his tears away.

I'm sad that Steven is so sad. He sounded so down when I spoke with him on the phone. The realization that John is growing up and is that much closer to being gone more independent.

He made a drum for dad in the first class. For dad...not me.

He said that he had fun. But then he said that he didn't want to go back. The teacher said that shortly after Steven left, John stopped crying so it was all good.

The second class was "musical chairs". Again, he said that he had fun but that he didn't want to go back.

He missed the third class because he had a cold. They were supposed to make horns. Which in itself wasn't anything important until I had the following conversation with John a couple days later.

J: Mama watch. Look.

M: What are you doing?

J: Horns, Mama. Horns.

And then I turned around to witness my baby son, with his hands by his head and the two little index fingers pointed straight up... like horns.

"Horns, Mama."

Good Lord, would he ever have been disappointed during music makers when they made their horns.