Sing Your Way Home

Ours is not the typically cool family. We don't put gel in our boys' hair, we enjoy playing sports but can't be bothered with the competition of league teams, we prefer each others' company to most outsiders', our couches are stained and our walls are decorated in permanent marker.

We can carry on conversations that consist solely of quotes from movies like Star Wars, Lord of the Rings, Tommyboy, Happy Gilmore, Napoleon Dynamite, Rubin and Ed, Ghostbusters, The Goonies, Uncle Buck, Evolution, and Ratatouille (I spelled that right on the first try, I'm amazing.)

Speaking of spelling, we never study for spelling tests and we always get 100%.

Most of our clothes are second hand and we tend to wear white socks with our slacks and dress shoes.

We play charades, we sing, we take music lessons. We all read the same book and discuss it at the dinner table.

Some days our dinner conversation consists of soothing each others' bruised egos and hurt feelings caused by cruel, clueless classmates. More often we talk about how much fun recess was with the very same classmates. Ah, grade school, how I would never go back to you.

So here's the scene: We are attending a service and Jack is sitting next to someone who he looks up to and admires. You know the kid I'm talking about. I'm sure your kids have one or two of their own. The kid that is about year older than your kid, comes from an amazing family and has a heart of gold. If I could hand pick someone for my son to emulate, it would be this kid. Jack has a few of these boys in his life. Good, kind boys with good heads on their shoulders.

After the service, Jack tells me that Jason's* remark during the singing portion of the meeting was "Dude, quit American Idolling the songs."

Hilarious. And perhaps the most accurate description of my son's singing style I've ever heard.

I can tell his feelings are hurt and his fragile ego is bruised. Even though the mothers who were seated near him can't stop showering him with their praise for his lovely voice.

Have you ever seen About a Boy? It's entirely possible he was singing with his eyes closed.

Then he complained more loudly than usual this weekend as I turned on The Sound of Music to watch and sing along as we completed a five hour drive (no Robert in the car=I get to listen to musicals.) My boys usually complain about my affinity for the musical, but then they sometimes sing along with Mary Poppins and her Spoonful of Sugar, or Tevye and his If I Were a Rich Man, or in this case, Frauline Maria and her Do Re Mi.

Not this time. He turned his back on me and watched out the window until he fell asleep.

I was scared. Had his song been stifled? Had the accurate and witty comment from his friend permanently affected him? Admittedly, sometimes I feel tempted to reign in his voice. Is that terrible? It's a desire to protect him from inevitable comments like this from his peers. I know it would be way more cool if my kid grumpily sat on the back row in Primary and begrudgingly mumbled the words to the songs. That's what the typical ten and eleven year old boy does. Here's the thing: he learned to sing like this from me. He sings in public the way I sing in private. More importantly, though, is this: Silencing his voice is the same as silencing his joy. I won't do that.

I was afraid, this weekend, that his joy had been silenced without my help.

I was nervous as the Primary children gathered in front of the congregation to sing their Mother's Day songs.

With the first note, though, I realized that I had better be more careful about teaching him the right words and rhythms to those songs because he was pretty much singing a solo with the rest of the primary as his back up.

With head held high, mouth wide open, and a sparkle in his eye, his joy had lived to see another day.

I think that's pretty cool.

*Obviously, I changed his name. We love this kid, and his family. Even though I know that his mom will see through this thin disguise, I don't want anyone in bloggyland to make any judgments about him.