A certain boy in the house has made it his personal project to memorize every last line of a certain U2 song in recent weeks. This boy and his little brother (who learned the lyrics himself through near constant exposure) have been belting out this song all … day … long.
I am not kidding. One would think they would require oxygen or throat lozenges at this point, but their stamina seems to know no bounds. They sing to each other, they serenade their baby brother, they screech into the turkey baster … er, microphone and I almost believe I have been graced with the presence of Bono himself.
This afternoon, the constant noise began to wear on me (did I mention it’s been non-stop?) and I attempted to outlaw the concert series.
“Take a break!” I begged them. “Or at least rehearse outside.”
They did try. We basked in blessed silence for almost 47 seconds. But an artist is an artist and he simply cannot keep his “personal expression” all bottled up inside.
They hummed. They tapped. They bounced in their seats. And when at last they could contain it no longer … they sang. Quietly at first, but then louder and louder.
I know what they say about consistent parenting. In fact, I think I am one of the “they” because I know I have written about consistency and follow-through being key to good parenting. But another key to good parenting, I have found, is picking your battles.
This time, I asked myself, “Is this the hill you want to die on?” and I answered myself, “No.”
I opted for ignoring. Surely, I thought, if I just quietly endure the noise and let them sing, surely they will eventually grow tired of it themselves and move on to the next activity.
So far, so wrong.