Last year I started to take Tom to a music class that met once a week at a church about 30 minutes from our house.
It was really, really great.
There were a lot of really cute songs and most every song had some type of movement to it.
It had a lot of running.
Marching in circles to song.
Hiding under the parachute while singing songs.
Twirling scarves during a song.
Tom loved it.
Every now and then we had a bit of a time, but honestly? He did really great.
Unfortunately, the church only offers that class for 6 weeks beginning in January and then another 6 weeks in September.
So I was going to be left without a music class right when Alice was born.
I was scared I’d become a hermit like I did when Tom was born (too scared to leave!) and I didn’t want to do that since I had Tom, so I really wanted to find a new music class.
As luck would have it, there was one offered about 10 minutes from our house and it was year-round.
So I signed us up!
And even though the class was different than we were used to, Tom still seemed to like it.
Not as much as his original class, but he liked it.
This class did have active songs, too, but the songs are different each week and there is a lot of actual “learning” supposed to be taking place.
By “learning” I mean “sitting and following instructions.”
(Beat the drum on rhythm! Sway when you hear the Saxaphone!)
Tom, at 2.5 years old and probably forever, is not a sit-and-follow-instructions type of child.
And the music class was supposed to be a fun thing for us!
I really didn’t want to have to scold him every time we went.
And that’s what started happening.
I’d be trying to catch him and stand in the back of the class with him so he didn’t disturb the other kids.
I’d try to make him sit in my lap and try to pay attention as the teacher explained something to us.
I tried to make him dance to the music, when he just wanted me to swing him or play ring-around-the-rosie.
(For the record, I tried to get him to do these things more than I normally would have because the teacher really wanted him to. )
So Tom started associating music class with him getting wrangled and sighed at by me for 45 minutes once a week.
And when I would say, “We’re going to music class today!”
He’d say, “Noooooo!”
But still, I thought he kind of liked it. (???)
I have no idea why I thought that.
A couple weeks ago I asked him if he wanted to go to music class and he told me he did not.
We went and he was a total terror.
We left halfway through class, which I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone do.
And we haven’t been back.
After that, I really realized he was not liking this.
Since we’re paid up through the end of August, I asked him this week if he wanted to go to music class, thinking that if he said, “Okay!” we could still go.
“No. I not want music class. I have to poop.”
So there you have it.
When pooping is the more pleasant option, you should probably quit the class.
So we dropped out.
And Tom can poop in peace.