My firstborn takes after his mother in many ways. Obviously, he gets his charm, intelligence and good looks from me, but he has also inherited a flair for being overly emotional.
On Sunday afternoon I was upstairs working, and when I came down to check on the score of the hockey game Sam was watching, I found him sobbing on the couch. I asked what was wrong, and he couldn't even answer he was crying so hard. He pointed emphatically at the television and I panicked, thinking that maybe there had been some tragic news story that interrupted the game. Nope, he was simply crying because the Penguins lost to the Flyers (two days in a row) and he was despondent.
He is also prone to hyperbole. For example, each and every day is either the worst day ever or the best day ever. If he gets into trouble at school, he'll call himself the stupidest boy in the world, and if he scores a goal at hockey it's because he's the best player on his team.
Lately, piano has been vexing him. For the first two months they were playing simple pieces with the right and left hands playing the same thing. He's flying through his lessons (musical talent runs on my side of the family, by the way) and has started working on a piece where his left hand is playing something entirely different from his right hand. This is incredibly frustrating to him, and when he is in his lesson his teacher will hold onto some tissues so that she can catch the tears dripping off of his nose before they hit the keys. And while he claims to hate piano more than anything in the world, he'll often sit himself down and start playing without any prompting from me, so I know he can't hate it too much.
He finally got his hands working together but independently. I was so proud of him, and he was so proud of himself. I want to share this because I'm hoping, like the skating videos, that one day we'll have a fun little chronological order series of his talent developing.
Lightly Row
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