Friday afternoon we gathered for Little E's end of the school year program.
His class performed many songs, including one of my favorites, Here Comes The Sun.
Big E was tasked with watching. Not performing. Not participating. Just good old fashioned watching.
This blew his mind. This was the first time Little E was doing something without his big brother and it was a tough pill for Big E to swallow.
Going into the performance, I would say Little E knew about 55% of the words to the five songs they were performing. But hey, he's not yet four, so I think that's great!
He was smiling and excited to be performing with his class. I thought Little E did a phenomenal job. As his mother, I know I am obliged to say that, but I also felt that deep in my soul. Especially as he shouted out amazing little nuggets in the midst of song such as:
MOM, THIS IS TOO HARD FOR ME!
To Big E, this was not acceptable.
Mid performance, Big E walked up to the stage, not once, not twice, but three dang times to warn Little E that he better up his game.
I WANT TO HEAR YOU SING!
SING, LITTLE E, SING!
I was mortified. Mr. Yoy was at work, so I was left to shoulder my embarrassment alone.
I death whispered to Big E to sit down STAT. He was already blocking the twenty seven cameras videoing the performance. I didn't want some dark, big-foot character skulking across the shot as well.
But Big E was frustrated.
I JUST WANT HIM TO DO A GOOD JOB, MOM!
I told him I understood, but he could not interrupt the performance again, or we would have to leave.
I then mentally scratched Surgeon General of the United States off of his potential future occupation list and wrote down Pageant Dad. And he'd be a damn good one.