Monday, February 23, 2009
Things are getting desperate around here.
Emma is playing the piano--enthusiastically.
Braeden's watching MASH. Since he can't hear over the "melodious" strains of the piano, he keeps turning it up and I keep yelling down the stairs to turn it back down.
Speaking of yelling. Mark is talking to no one in particular about nothing in particular with bits of Star Wars mixed in. He has to talk over all the racket to be heard by no one in particular and by everyone. I think that is encouraging Emma to play louder and Braeden to inch the volume up on the TV.
I would make Braeden turn off the TV altogether but then he'd be sitting at my elbow wanting to use the computer, wanting me to entertain him, wanting a snack.
I would make all of them sit down quietly and read something worthwhile.
Except Mark can't read so well.
And that would take energy.
I would escape screaming into the night except I have to correct my kids' school work.
So I'm trying to remember, why did we buy a piano?
Why do I drive my kids to piano lessons every week?
Why do I keep coming up with new ways to torture myself?
Posted by Thelma at 5:57 PM