When Braeden was a freshman in high school, he didn't want to audition for the play. I convinced him to just try. He relented and being in plays defined his high school years.
When Emma was going to be in seventh grade, she didn't want to take choir. My little songbird, and she refused!?! I argued and cajoled and harangued and finally gave up and enlisted Adam's help. He said, "I think you should take choir."
She said, "OK."
(I'd like to think I'd laid the groundwork though.)
And now Emma is in Disneyland on the all important choir tour. She loves choir. It's her Thing.
So the moral to this story is that I'm smarter than my kids. (I'm considering stitching it on a pillow so they can see it often.)
Mark needs to register for his classes next year. Adam and I have ideas about what he should take for his electives and he has other ideas.
I've related the above stories to him. He doesn't care. We've discussed it several times and the boy has his heels dug in like a stereotypical stubborn redhead would have their heels dug in.
I was telling Braeden about it and he agrees with me and he decided he would talk to Mark. He got a gleam in his eye and I could tell was metaphorically flexing his rhetoric muscles. If there's something Braeden loves, it is convincing people to do things. I'm usually his best victim.
Yesterday afternoon, Braeden and I took a walk. He told me he'd talked to Mark.
"Did it work?"
"No. That kid is crazy."
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| this picture showed up on my ipad one day...no one doubts he's crazy |
I said, "I can talk you into things and Dad can talk Emma into things but I don't know who can talk Mark into things."
"I'm not giving up!" Braeden said.
And neither are we. Tonight, Braeden has social engagements so Adam and I are going to take Mark to dinner. I told him it was a "business dinner" because we're going to talk about his schedule. "Oooh," Mark said, kind of excitedly. "Where are we going?"
"Cracker Barrel," I said.
Because we are pulling out the big guns here.
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