Every morning on the way to school we listen to music and sing.
When they get out I turn on NPR or POTUS to nerd out, but until then, it’s a super long drive and yes, singing and merriment is had.
The kids have a Spotify playlist, and it used to consist of mostly Disney music and cartoon movie soundtracks, but has slowly, and thankfully, been going a bit more mainstream thanks to Gigi’s current obsession with Glee, Katy Perry and Taylor Swift.
Jude and Gigi sing their hearts out, but Wyatt man, he’s stoic. He doesn’t sing, he barely even smiles. He assures me he’s okay and everything’s cool, but my inability to crack him is maddening.
When your kids are small, it’s easy to lump them together. You love them all. They are all cute. They all like cartoons and popcorn and Disney World.
But, as they grow into small human people, it becomes more and more apparent that they are not only entirely different from one another, but parenting becomes this balance of separate personal relationships within a family.
A day with Gigi means a day of changing our clothes 400 times, practicing dramatic monologues and choreography, shopping, watching The Princess Bride, hand holding and eating someplace fancy enough to have cloth napkins to place on our lap.
Jude time usually consists of video games, building drones with his dad, Star Wars movie marathons, talking about cute girls in his class, and sometimes, maybe, letting me hold his hand in Best Buy.
My days with Wyatt were always unclear. He went absolutely anywhere I suggested, and gladly held my hand and chatted with me when prompted, but there were no stand out pure Wyatt moments.
Even last Christmas, as Andy and I made our Christmas shopping lists, it became clear we weren’t entirely sure we knew who Wyatt was becoming.
Does he want Star Wars guys?
No, that’s more Jude’s thing.
Does he like Batman?
I’m not sure if he does, or he just plays with it because that’s what we bought him, ya know?
Looking for a sure fire kick to the parenting nutsack? Realize you don’t know your kid. Here, I’ll give you the number to my therapist and favorite liquor store.
A few weeks ago as we were driving to school, I handed Wyatt my phone and asked him to pick out a song. Any song he wanted.
He plugged in his headphones and started scrolling and scrolling, for like, five minutes. Finally, he pulls out his cord and hands me my phone to plug back in the car, and we listened, full blast, to Wyatt’s song… Sabotage by The Beastie Boys.
He played the air drums for three minutes, and when it was over, I hit repeat. And I also cried, but whatever.
Mental note, Wyatt likes the Beastie Boys.
Figuring out Wyatt secrets became my new personal mission. When he came home that day, we sat down with the iPad and watched tons of music videos on Youtube, read about bands on Wikipedia, and put together the beginning of a Wyatt playlist, because you see, Wyatt loves music, not singing it, playing it. Specifically, he wants to play the drums, guitar and also take turn-table lessons.
Mental note, Wyatt is a bad ass.
We have family movie night once a week. It sounds legit, but really, it’s just an excuse for everyone to force me to make popcorn from scratch while we sit around in our underwear on the couch. Thankfully, we’ve all finally reached the ceiling of our Fellowship of the Ring tolerance level, so Jude has been suspended from movie picking, passing the reigns to Wyatt. We keep all our DVD’s in giant leather CD cases (saves space), and he sat on the floor and flipped through book after book until deciding on his movie… Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban.
Babe, this is the third movie, don’t you want to start with the first one?
No, Sirius Black is my favorite guy.
Mental note, Wyatt is dope.
A few days ago, I was out running errands with Wyatt in tow. It’s funny, when I had my first kid, I was scared to death to go anywhere, and swore I’d never leave the house again because getting anything done with a kid was impossible. Now that I have three, I feel like I could climb Everest if it meant I could leave the house with only one of them.
We popped into Five Below, aka, my new favorite place to accidentally spend $100, to pick up some Valentine’s Day stuff, when Wyatt came across a pair of mustache print suspenders in the clearance bin. He already has a bit of a bow tie collection going ( I know dude, this kid, he kills me), so after explaining how they worked, he decided that he needed them, and for $1, ok yeah fine.
He hasn’t taken them off since.
Mental note, I want to be Wyatt when I grow up.
Wyatt loves to play Euchre (thank God, because sorry Andy, but you blow), he likes eating sushi with me and sitting at the bar so he can talk to the chef, he’s an amazing artist, he thinks George Clooney was a sucky Batman, he prefers to do his own hair, he likes Legos and talking about how dinosaurs died, and that is just the tip of the iceberg of the person he is becoming.
I finally figured out who Wyatt is. He’s the coolest fucking guy I know.