Everyone Loves David

My kids hate me lately. This comes as something of a surprise to me since I happen to love them to a stupefying degree and happen to express that love with what I think is impressive frequency. I am constantly hugging them, kissing them, holding their hands, caressing their heads and showering them with all kinds of glowing praise and terms of ridiculous endearment. At pickup time, teachers have overheard me exclaim at the sight of my son, “Is this the face that launched a thousand ships?” It is not uncommon for me to address my daughter as “the light of my life.” And I mean it, too, I am really nuts for these children.

But, as its panning on, this love is pretty unrequited.

Last night Primo got a hold of two M & Ms and I asked if he might want to share one with me, as he often does:

“Um, no,” he replied apologetically, “I am going to give one to my Daddy because I love him more.”

I don’t know where my son got the idea that he had to rate his love for me and his father but he does, all the time. And David is always in the lead. Always

:”Oh, I love you so much Daddy!” he’ll exclaim especially at bedtime, “I love you more than the sky and the moon. When I grow up, I’m going to marry you, Daddy!”

David is always grateful for the attention but he also knows what a petty, jealous, unhinged woman I am, so he’ll laugh nervously and say, “What about Mommy, don’t you love Mommy too?”

“Oh, not as much as I love you Daddy,” responds Primo, positively swooning, “I love Mommy just a little but I love you so much I think my heart is going to explode!”

“Gag,” I snort, like I am 14 again. Then I storm off to pity myself for a while, despite the fact that I fully understand how insane it is to consider my husband a rival in the contest for my children’s hearts. I mean, I love my husband, and I’m glad the kids love him – they should love him, they should be crazy for him, because he’s the crème de la crème of fathers, a totally selfless, patient, loving, attentive, generous man. In fact, I don’t really care if they, in their heart of hearts, love him more than me, but for God’s sake do they have to keep telling me about it, over and over again, in very undiplomatic ways?

“NO MOMMY, YOU CAN”T HUG ME!” Seconda likes to yell if I -- God forbid – feel a maternal surge of love and try to express it. “I WANT MY DADDY! IS DADDY HOME YET? I MISS MY DADDY!”

If I try to dress her or change her diaper or brush her teeth, she screams that she wants her Daddy to do it even if Daddy is not currently in the borough of Brooklyn. If I try to read her books at bedtime, while David is reading to Primo, she will bawl so hard she doesn’t even make sound. When she gets her breath back she shouts, “GO AWAY MOMMY! I WANT MY DAAAAADDDDY!” Finally, last night, I could take no more.

“Fine!” I yelled, “I am never reading you books EVER AGAIN! You can all go with your precious Daddy since you love him so much and I’m leaving!”

The kids were nonplussed, looking at me with blank faces like, “Ok, whatever, sounds great. Now can you stop yelling crazy lady, because our wonderful, flawless pater familias is trying to read us s story.”

Oh, Lear, you were right. Sharper than a serpent’s tooth it is to have a thankless child.

But then, this morning, my husband let me sleep ‘til 9 and take a hot shower immediately upon waking, which is a luxury I get about 3 times a year. And then, when I was adequately rested, and groomed to my satisfaction, only then did I step into the kitchen to face what was sure to be a long list of problems, conundrums and stand-offs.

But instead, I found a hot pot of coffee and a cheerful son, who exclaimed, “Oh Mommy! You’re awake! This is the moment I have been waiting for!”

And just like that, we’re back in love, all of us, in perfect balance and sweet harmony.

Humpty Dumpty, the Opera or who needs a shrink when you have Legos?

I was checking email on Saturday when Primo told me it was time for the Humpty Dumpty Opera which he had staged using Legos.

“Great,” I said, “I want front-row seats.”

I wasn’t quite expecting the no-holds-barred session of play therapy which followed. I mean, I know Primo’s feeling jealous of his sister lately, because now, at 2, she’s fully arrived as the life of the party, with a face that could easily launch a thousand ships and a charm that makes Mae West look like an amateur. Not a quiet, slow-burning kind of appeal but instantaneous, addictive can’t-take-you-eyes-off-her power. You think I’m exaggerating? All I have to say is, Primo’s four and five year-old rough-and-tumble boy pals come over to play and within an hour Primo’s crying because no one’s playing with him. They’re all too busy letting Seconda comb their hair and pat their shoulders and tell them they’re her best friend and they look really great and she will miss them.

“I don’t have anyone cute to snuggle with,” said one of Prim’s friends, in his defense.

So I’ve been aware that the green-eyed monster was lurking somewhere in my first-born but not until this weekend, during the one-time-only performance of “Humpty Dumpty: the Opera” did it became obvious. You see, Humpty Dumpty’s not an old child, believe it or not. He has an older brother, a brother who has lived in his shadow all these years, the silent, the name-less brother, of whom no one ever speaks. And on Saturday, I heard his story. Now, dear readers, I share it with you. (Be advised that much of the pathos is lost without the accompanying acapella soundtrack, but you get the idea). .

Humpty Dumpty: the Opera.

Scene 1

Humpty Dumpty’s home, which looks to be in ruins but I think Primo just ran out of steam after building the first wall.

Narrator: Humpty Dumpty’s brother was mad because his mother was too busy feeding Humpty and wasn’t paying any attention to him. So Humpty’s brother told him to go climb up a wall. And Humpty did it.

Scene 2

A thin multi-colored Lego wall nearby. Humpty is sitting on it, but the Legos aren’t locked in. Danger is in the air.

Narrator: He had a great fall. Smash, crash went his shell!

The “Humpty Dumpty’s Great Fall” aria. Piano, pianissimo, FORTE!

Narrator: Then all the king’s horses and all the king’s men came but they couldn’t put him together again.

INTERMISSION (I needed to make a ham sandwich)

Scene 3

Narrator: Humpty’s mommy came and got mad that Humpty was broken. She was so mad that she almost crashed into Humpty to break him even more.

(For the record, I don’t know where he gets this from. When the kids get hurt I always comfort first, yell later.)

She sings the aria. “Don’t Be Sad!” to one of the king’s men, who feels bereft, emasculated, helpless because he couldn’t fix Humpty.

(At this point, I started getting genuinely interested in the action. Heartbroken women who’s lost her child finds the strength to lifts the spirits of others who failed to help? Move over, Arthur Miller).

Narrator: The mommy asked the king’s man to baby-sit Humpty’s brother while she took Humpty to the doctor.

Scene 5

A doctor’s office. Enter Humpty’s Mommy with broken egg in her arms.

Doctor: “I can fix that for you. He has to be stitched up.”

Doctor sings, “Stitch stitch stitch stitch.” Andante.

Scene 6

Humpty’s Mommy returns with repaired Humpty.

King’s Men: “Looks like Humpty is all fixed up, Yay!”

All sing, “We are happy happy happy!”Andagio, andagio!

Festivities begin to celebrate the miraculous recovery. A cake is revealed. But there is one piece of unfinished business. The Mommy turns to Humpty’s Brother.

Humpty’s Mommy: “Never ever tell Humpty to sit on a wall because he will FALL AGAIN!!”

Narrator: Humpty’s brother wanted some cake but the mother said:

Humpty’s Mother: “No no no, it’s all for Humpty, not for anybody else.”

FINIS

I think my son achieved more catharsis in the fifteen minute Lego Opera than I have in the past five decade of on-again/ off-again therapy. Helluva lot cheaper, too.