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So here's the 411 on the ballet class in my son's school. We had assumed, several months ago, when he came home and told us he was doing ballet in school, that the whole class was doing it - a sort of dance and movement thing. He kept telling us things like "dance is really good for you. Dancers are really strong. It makes you fit and healthy." So I just went with it and thought, great, he and all his classmates are in this together.
Turns out... uh... no. 3 boys from junior and senior infants and a host of little girls. My train of thought went something like...
"Where are all the other boys' parents? Oh, there's the class coming in now. Where is he? He isn't with them? Why are they sitting down in the corner? Are they going to get up now? No. Ahhh... twelve little girls in pink frilly tutus like mini barbies and...
Three soldiers. Including my son. Marching in unison. Oh except for mine, who waved at everyone, smiled and took a few extra bows.
He marched, he pointed, he smiled as if his head was about to fall over in half, he was so terrifying a lion that he almost freaked out one of his classmates (non-participating). To top it all off, he started telling the teacher what they should be doing. In short, he PERFORMED.
No doubting the genetics there then. Anyone who knows my father, pick yourselves up of the ground and try to catch your breath.
What amuses me more is the fact that he basically took it on himself to take the class. And managed to get our approval without actually telling us he was taking an extra. Just went ahead and did it. I'm quite proud of that.
The problem is we aren't sure if we payed for it or not. If not, how do we make sure he can continue (we didn't put it down for next year) without drawing attention to the fact? Apparently this parenting lark is meant to get easier. I don't see any evidence of that.
In writing news - I wrote two poems last night. I'm also trying to work out how to apply a scene from Moy Tura Echoes to the current incarnation of the story. It is still really clear in my mind but I think I will have to go on a hunt for the original notes. Maybe write it and then compare it. It features someone who used to be a regular character in the Dublin landscape. I don't know who he was, just a guy I used to see all the time feeding the pigeons in St. Stephen's Green when I worked in the solicitors library. He basically had trained these pigeons over the years by feeding them bits of bread. Everyone used to go to the green to see and feed the ducks but this guy was like a street performer when there was no business in street performance. And I think he did it for love. Whether people watched him or not, he would be there feeding his pigeons. Anyway, I am trying to work a lot of that into a fairly important character .
Hopefully.
Anyway, want to get the poems up for critique in Notebored this evening, so we'll see how that goes.
Oh yes, and do some work. :D
R
Turns out... uh... no. 3 boys from junior and senior infants and a host of little girls. My train of thought went something like...
"Where are all the other boys' parents? Oh, there's the class coming in now. Where is he? He isn't with them? Why are they sitting down in the corner? Are they going to get up now? No. Ahhh... twelve little girls in pink frilly tutus like mini barbies and...
Three soldiers. Including my son. Marching in unison. Oh except for mine, who waved at everyone, smiled and took a few extra bows.
He marched, he pointed, he smiled as if his head was about to fall over in half, he was so terrifying a lion that he almost freaked out one of his classmates (non-participating). To top it all off, he started telling the teacher what they should be doing. In short, he PERFORMED.
No doubting the genetics there then. Anyone who knows my father, pick yourselves up of the ground and try to catch your breath.
What amuses me more is the fact that he basically took it on himself to take the class. And managed to get our approval without actually telling us he was taking an extra. Just went ahead and did it. I'm quite proud of that.
The problem is we aren't sure if we payed for it or not. If not, how do we make sure he can continue (we didn't put it down for next year) without drawing attention to the fact? Apparently this parenting lark is meant to get easier. I don't see any evidence of that.
In writing news - I wrote two poems last night. I'm also trying to work out how to apply a scene from Moy Tura Echoes to the current incarnation of the story. It is still really clear in my mind but I think I will have to go on a hunt for the original notes. Maybe write it and then compare it. It features someone who used to be a regular character in the Dublin landscape. I don't know who he was, just a guy I used to see all the time feeding the pigeons in St. Stephen's Green when I worked in the solicitors library. He basically had trained these pigeons over the years by feeding them bits of bread. Everyone used to go to the green to see and feed the ducks but this guy was like a street performer when there was no business in street performance. And I think he did it for love. Whether people watched him or not, he would be there feeding his pigeons. Anyway, I am trying to work a lot of that into a fairly important character .
Hopefully.
Anyway, want to get the poems up for critique in Notebored this evening, so we'll see how that goes.
Oh yes, and do some work. :D
R
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