Supergirl on a Sunday morning.
This weekend was rough. I’m aware that the general consensus is “we took a few days off to be upset; now it’s time to toughen up and get moving,” and I agree with that sentiment for the most part (at least the “toughen up and get moving” part), but these past couple of days weren’t any easier than the ones that came before it. Graffiti (“TRUMP!”) popped up on my quiet little street for the first time since I’ve lived here. This happened. I drove my children to the park on Sunday afternoon, and a few minutes before we got there my son asked to hear a new song, so I decided to play Hallelujah for him – in retrospect, an absolutely catastrophic song choice, and one that resulted in me having to try to explain to my children why sometimes songs make us cry.
But something else happened this weekend, and it meant so much to me that despite the fact that I’m aware that only very close relatives (might) consider a five-year-old’s piano recital Must-See TV, I’m going to post it here anyway. You guys have been with me since the day this kid was born, and…I don’t know, I just wanted to share this with you. It’s a pretty beautiful thing, watching children turn into the people they will be in the future.
P.S. Apologies for the shockingly poor video quality, but honestly: shouldn’t all home movies of piano recitals look like this?
P.P.S. Please note the improvisational cape-removal moment. The boy has flair.
