We are driving home from a Spring Pre-School Concert, the kind where one son stands in the back row singing quietly, hand motions below the neck line. Keepin’ it cool. Our youngest, typically a ham for entertainment refuses to perform when all eyes are in his direction, and so he didn’t. At all.
Somehow in the fuss of class practices, the idea transpired that when the concert concluded, all parents were treating their children to yogurt. I had not received the memo and had other dessert plans. Numero Uno is not a fan of our alternative decision.
And so it goes down like this: