Wednesday, September 19, 2012

Me: Captain, she reads! Munchkin reads! Proper books and everything!

Captain: Good. I'm relieved I won't have to hear about it anymore.

Me: Say something more positive.

Captain: I'm very glad that Munchkin won't have to put up with your my-child-will-never-read angst any more. With any luck, she'll forget this entire episode and won't need therapy for it.

It's not like I'm the only jump-the-gun angsty parent around these days. Munchkin started cello lessons. She's the oldest child there. She's six. The teacher overheard that I had a four-year-old and asked if he were taking music lessons as well. Are you kidding me? The only things Genome is interest in these days are plastic and shaped like dinosaurs (or soldiers, or pirates).

Of course, the four-year-olds at her music class don't seem particularly interested either. But while I'm willing to do a certain amount of angsting over literacy, I just can't quite get that same deep-felt panic at the thought that my daughter may never be a proficient strings player. And since (like all lawyers) I'm an adrenaline junky, I can only take action when I'm panicking. Luckily I'm neurotic so I panic a lot.

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