Monday - An Angry Butterfly
May. 8th, 2006 02:41 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ninanevermoreToday on my drive into work, I was thinking about how my son's stage debut did not go well on Friday evening. He does not seem to feel that the theater is the kind of thing that he wants to pursue, especially if it involves wearing a costume. The Lutheran Daycare put on it's annual "Spring Program" on that night. It seems silly to me to have children that small put on any kind of program or production, but the girl who teaches his class had been told to drum up support, and she practically begged that I have my son participate, so I agreed to it. In retrospect, I should have consulted him about how he felt about attending an event that would take place during what is usually his supper time. It turned out that he didn't care for the idea at all.
The program was called In a Spring Garden and all of the children were supposed to wear some sort of garden-themed costume. The tiniest babies were flowers; they wore little bands with felt petals around their heads to look like little blossoms. The 3 and 4 year olds were honey bees. They wore upside-down brown paper shopping bags with holes cut out to put their arms through, with yellow and black construction paper glued on the front. The toddlers in my son's age group were supposed to be butterflies; his teacher made their costumes from the cardboard tubes from rolls of paper towels, with red construction paper wings taped on them. Fuzzy pipe cleaners were supposed to be wrapped around the children's shoulder to keep the wings in place.
The other toddlers took to their wings without any problem. They happily ran around the classroom with their wings flapping on their backs, and the effect was quite endearing. My son was having none of this, however. When we tried to put my son's wings on him, the result was anything but endearing. From the sounds that he made, anyone walking by the room outside would have believed that we were pulling off his arms and legs rather than putting a pair of construction paper wings on him
It took his teacher and me both to hold him still to fasten the them on his back. He howled the entire time. After they were secure, he tried to reach behind him and rip them off, but he couldn't get his hands on them. Then he turned into the world's angriest butterfly. He threw himself on his face and wailed, then lay on his back and wailed louder. He sat in the middle of the floor, tossed back his head and let the world hear his outrage for as far as his voice could travel. His face turned as red as the offensive construction paper wings. Large tears as clear and perfect as diamonds fell in rapid succession down his cheeks. We tried distracting him with a cup of milk and with a cookie, but he shook his head violently that he did not want them. It was clear that the only thing he wanted was to have the vile wings taken off of him.
For a minute or two, I had the idea to let him cry and see if he could get used to them, but it did not take long to figure out that this was not going to work. His mind was made up that he would not tolerate this indignity. I took mercy on him and moved in to free him from the winged paper horror strapped to him, but by then I had to wrestle him to the ground since he did not trust me anymore. After all, I forced him to wear them in the first place. Once the rather crumpled and crushed wings came off, he finally relaxed a little. I held him and apologized for making him wear that stupid costume before he finally grew quiet. His teacher and I agreed that he would have to be the only butterfly without wings, and that this was okay, really.
I held him while we waited outside of the church gymnasium until it was time for the kids to go onstage, when one of the daycare workers took him from me. I then sat down with the other parents to watch the show. Other parents had cameras and video equipment, while it hadn't occurred to me to bring these things. To my mind, there wasn't much to record; just my son sitting sulkily on the lap of one of the teacher while the 3 and 4 year olds sang little off-key gardening songs to the tune of Here we go 'Round the Mulberry Bush. The infants were happy to wear their little flower costumes, and not one other butterflies or honey bees seemed perturbed about their paper apparel. It's funny how what is so benign to many people can be so distressing to others.
I admit that I felt a grudging respect for the little man. I think we need more people of strong convictions in this world. One of these days, I hope he cares as much about standing up for what is right as he did last week about standing up for the fact that he is not an insect and does not want to dress like one. I hope that one day my angry little butterfly will be willing to stand up and argue for the causes of justice and equality. I hope that as an adult he will take up for the issues like ending hunger and promoting human rights. I hope that this could be an early sign to some nobility in his character. Or it could simply mean that there is no way in hell he is going to dress in a sissy butterfly costume in front of a room full of strangers.
Mother love is unconditional, so I suppose that I am good with it either way.
The program was called In a Spring Garden and all of the children were supposed to wear some sort of garden-themed costume. The tiniest babies were flowers; they wore little bands with felt petals around their heads to look like little blossoms. The 3 and 4 year olds were honey bees. They wore upside-down brown paper shopping bags with holes cut out to put their arms through, with yellow and black construction paper glued on the front. The toddlers in my son's age group were supposed to be butterflies; his teacher made their costumes from the cardboard tubes from rolls of paper towels, with red construction paper wings taped on them. Fuzzy pipe cleaners were supposed to be wrapped around the children's shoulder to keep the wings in place.
The other toddlers took to their wings without any problem. They happily ran around the classroom with their wings flapping on their backs, and the effect was quite endearing. My son was having none of this, however. When we tried to put my son's wings on him, the result was anything but endearing. From the sounds that he made, anyone walking by the room outside would have believed that we were pulling off his arms and legs rather than putting a pair of construction paper wings on him
It took his teacher and me both to hold him still to fasten the them on his back. He howled the entire time. After they were secure, he tried to reach behind him and rip them off, but he couldn't get his hands on them. Then he turned into the world's angriest butterfly. He threw himself on his face and wailed, then lay on his back and wailed louder. He sat in the middle of the floor, tossed back his head and let the world hear his outrage for as far as his voice could travel. His face turned as red as the offensive construction paper wings. Large tears as clear and perfect as diamonds fell in rapid succession down his cheeks. We tried distracting him with a cup of milk and with a cookie, but he shook his head violently that he did not want them. It was clear that the only thing he wanted was to have the vile wings taken off of him.
For a minute or two, I had the idea to let him cry and see if he could get used to them, but it did not take long to figure out that this was not going to work. His mind was made up that he would not tolerate this indignity. I took mercy on him and moved in to free him from the winged paper horror strapped to him, but by then I had to wrestle him to the ground since he did not trust me anymore. After all, I forced him to wear them in the first place. Once the rather crumpled and crushed wings came off, he finally relaxed a little. I held him and apologized for making him wear that stupid costume before he finally grew quiet. His teacher and I agreed that he would have to be the only butterfly without wings, and that this was okay, really.
I held him while we waited outside of the church gymnasium until it was time for the kids to go onstage, when one of the daycare workers took him from me. I then sat down with the other parents to watch the show. Other parents had cameras and video equipment, while it hadn't occurred to me to bring these things. To my mind, there wasn't much to record; just my son sitting sulkily on the lap of one of the teacher while the 3 and 4 year olds sang little off-key gardening songs to the tune of Here we go 'Round the Mulberry Bush. The infants were happy to wear their little flower costumes, and not one other butterflies or honey bees seemed perturbed about their paper apparel. It's funny how what is so benign to many people can be so distressing to others.
I admit that I felt a grudging respect for the little man. I think we need more people of strong convictions in this world. One of these days, I hope he cares as much about standing up for what is right as he did last week about standing up for the fact that he is not an insect and does not want to dress like one. I hope that one day my angry little butterfly will be willing to stand up and argue for the causes of justice and equality. I hope that as an adult he will take up for the issues like ending hunger and promoting human rights. I hope that this could be an early sign to some nobility in his character. Or it could simply mean that there is no way in hell he is going to dress in a sissy butterfly costume in front of a room full of strangers.
Mother love is unconditional, so I suppose that I am good with it either way.
no subject
Date: 2006-05-09 03:56 pm (UTC)