Magical Music and A Half-Birthday

Today John turned four and a half.  In our house, those are celebrated with a half birthday cake (literally, a cake cut in half….I usually freeze the other half for another time) after dinner.  Today was a crazy day and so our plans went all awash and we ended up frantically running into Macey’s at 5:30 on the way home from Cello Class to buy dinner (eek! homemade macaroni and cheese—the original request—just doesn’t get made in 10 minutes) and a cake (eek!  a store-bought yucky cake….that, I might add, the kids were sooooo gaga about.  I mean, it had pink curly frosting around the edges, and was white-white-white and had curly ribbons all over the top.  Goodness me!)  And we actually celebrated Wendy’s half birthday which apparently I forgot to celebrate in December amidst the chaos of a recent move and an attempt at our normal Advent activities.  Fear not, she reminded me of the miss today in great detail and so…..the whole store bought cake was cut in half and presented to each with the requisite “Happy Half-Birthday to you” sung, and candles and excitement.  Michael put up a bit of stink as the cakes arrived at the table (he even got to carry Wendy’s….with Papa’s help) when he realized that neither half got plopped down before his chair.  But a quick slice and deal and he was happily chowing down.  Oh, me, it was a crazy afternoon.  Did I mention that we had violin lessons and grocery shopping and cello class all they way at the top of the valley? 

Let’s just say I’m happy to be quietly sipping tea right now.  My favorite tea of all time, no less!

But amidst the franticness which just WAS TODAY there were some sweet moments, too, as there almost always are.  One of which was watching John attend his first cello class.  He got a Suzuki 1/10th cello for Christmas and started lessons within the last month.  I purposely waited to start Wendy on violin until she was 6 even though she’d been set on learning violin since the age of 2 and 1/2.  But once one is doing it, it makes more sense (to me, anyway) to start the others earlier since they’re used to sitting through lessons and practice and hum the tunes in their sleep already.  So John started….and I’ve not been absolutely sure he was ready.  For instance, we practice for only about 5 minutes a day because after that he’s just done and there’s really no point to pushing it and making him despise the time.  In lessons he perks up, though….and today!  oh, today was sweet.  A room full of cellists….the oldest probably around 7, the youngest 3.  All sitting in rapt (most of the time, anyway) attention facing their teacher and her cello which next to most of them looks enormous.  Each taking a turn playing the piece or exercise of their choice, making comments about what positive things they noticed in each other’s playing, having fun doing “knock knocks” and telling jokes.  John finally doing the thing he’s watched his big sister doing now for a year and a half.  And no sense of shyness!  When it was his turn to say his name he spoke up and said it.  When it was his turn to play he sat up straight and played Camels and sang the song in a good loud voice.  Later in the hour once he caught on he started raising his hand to make comments about his peer’s playing “She had a straight back” or “It was nice!” 

Camels, camels, camels

Walking in the Gobe, Gobe, Gobe

Looking for a Drink, Drink, Drink

All they find are Ants, Ants, Ants

Digging in the Dirt, Dirt, Dirt

Going UnderGround, Ground, Ground

Carrying Their Cellos, Cellos, Cellos. ( V…..I)

So today he arrived at 4.5 with a bang.  This boy who has always seemed delicate to me.  Sweet and energetic but small.  One who I love to bits but always feel like I don’t totally understand.  This boy who I’ve worried over for years, who seems, in the shadow of his capable, vocal big sister to always be much younger than he is…..he arrived today at a place that is just him.   A big kid in the making.  The same “John” he’s always been but not more delicate, or smaller, or younger than he is meant to be.  And I am not worried.  He is just perfect.  Happy Half Birthday, my boy.