Mac’s antics are well documented here. So I suppose that it is right and just to document his successes. Last Saturday was a day of triumphs for the Macster. He had a soccer game, which his mother had to miss. Again. Such is the life of a third child, who’s two other sisters are also soccer players.
He scored the first goal at his game. This is exciting in and of itself because Mac’s scored two goals this season, compared to no goals last season. He also kept his, sort of, cool. He was controlled, for Mac, and remarkably focused. He proudly gave me a report on his performance, admitting that he did flap his hands a little bit, but stopped when he remembered to. There was also no taunting of the opposing team, which was a brief issue last week. The father figure loudly corrected “Don’t call names Mac!” To which Mac replied “Oh, Ok.” And ceased. It was as if he hadn’t ever been told not to call names. And as I considered things, I don’t think that was a lesson we had addressed yet. So chalk it up to another parenting failure.
So after a soccer game where Mac could hold his head high, we moved on to the dance recital. Now dance has been a bone of contention for Mac and me. He likes it, sort of. But he’s also the only little boy in a class full of girls. One of the girls has seven brothers, and so she knows all the buttons to push for Mac. And Mac is more than happy to be the class clown. Fortunately his teacher is unflappable and no nonsense and keeps him on a short leash. In general, dance wouldn’t be something I would pick for Mac, but his sisters were in an hour and a half class and this gave him something to do for half of that time. And it was all part of the master plan to wear the boy out.
So for the ballet recital, Mac was given the role of the black sheep. When the teacher told me her plans, I said “oh, type casting.” And Mac lived up to his role.
He was subdued heading in. He saw the empty chairs and said “oh, scary.” See, he’s all about acting out, but it mostly for his own entertainment, he’s good not being observed. He got ready, costumed up and then waited next to me. He was content to sit and hold Gestated Cinco. For half an hour. And then it was show time.
As they danced out onto the stage, Mac’s nerves disappeared. He caught sight of me and waved. The he wink and flashed a thumbs up. And he was off. I think it is fair to say, he stole the show.
Mac’s responsible for many of the grey hairs on my head. Mostly because he’s a boy version of me. And I can mostly get what he’s doing, but not always and the lack of impulse control is directly responsible for my high blood pressure. Well that and gestating Cinco, but that’s a different story.
So it didn’t really faze me when I caught sight of Mac in church, hands raised in the air. It was as if he wanted to ask the priest a question. Or he thought we were in a Baptist church. But he said that he was thanking God, and that if God liked his thank you, he would send him a toy.
I don’t care what his motivations were, celestial toys or no, he done me proud this weekend.