I came from a family where on the rare occasion I'd get 4 A's and a B, I'd get in massive amounts of crap for the only B. I'd hear about it for weeks. I swore I'd never be like that and I really haven't. To be honest, I give the kids shit every day of the year to get good marks and keep in close contact with the teachers so when the report cards come home there are no surprises. Except this time, that is.
To top it off, Elliott is a great kid, terrific little hockey and soccer player, funny as anything, has tons of friends and usually keeps a low A, high B average. So what if he can't tell an oboe from his elbow? It's just music, right? But I don't want him to have that kind of attitude. I want him to at least try his best, that way if he sucks he comes by it honestly.
So Scott and Elliott had a talk. They looked at the test and tried to figure out where Elliott went wrong. They talked about listening to the teacher and practicing more on the recorder (uh, why am I the one being punished?). It was all very Brady actually. There was no screaming, no guilt trips and no threats like there would have been in our St. Hubert bungalow circa 1977.
Ah yes. Another parental disaster averted. This is stuff they never tell you at the baby shower. You never think this far ahead. Anyway, I'm sure I'll have plenty more opportunities to send my kids screaming to a psychiatrist to hit a punching bag with my picture on it but this time ain't one of them. In your face anger therapy.