Sometimes, parenting lessons are handed to you on a silver platter. Yesterday was one of those times for me. I love, love, love it when a punishment fits the crime for my kids, because I'm a sadistic, evil mother. Henry has been complaining and whining all week about not wanting to go to his spring music concert, which was last night. It happened to be at the same time as his swimming lessons, and since he hates singing and loves swimming, he obviously wanted to skip it. I put my foot down, we were all going to watch Henry sing! Yay! He also had an afternoon performance for the rest of the school, so I brought the girls to that, because I can't get enough of hearing kids sing about America the Bee-you-tee-full. There was my little Henry, back row center, scowling and not opening his mouth for any of their songs. I was getting more and more irritated with the little shit, and I had my line ready when he came up to me after it was over.
"Well, Henry, I was going to tell you that since I saw your performance this afternoon that you could skip the concert tonight and go swimming, but SINCE you didn't exactly perform, and that was very disrespectful to the teacher and the other students, I guess we'll be going to tonight's concert after all." (BTW, a total lie, we were always planning on going to the concert) He knew he was in deep shit, so he didn't freak out, but I gleefully checked my rearview mirror all the way home and noted his wet eyes and sad clown face. Yessssss!
When I got home and relayed the story to Mitch, his only response was, "So we're going to the concert? Why do I have to be punished for something he did?"
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