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Yesterday for our household was about causing tears and exploring nudity in art.

How’d that whole “Setting Expectations” thing go?

Just another day in the COVID-19 life.

Honestly? Not so bad. Or…the morning wasn’t so bad. Get up, go for a walk (thank goodness we can) and they’re pretty motivated to be doing “school” in another form. It’s a relatively quiet and focused time.

And then helicopter dad swoops in and starts screwing everything up.

Again – we were pretty focused for the morning, had a snack, got some reading and writing done, had lunch, and then had some “gametime with daddy” time after lunch.

I’ve made it my personal mission to teach my kids some basic sporting rules of basketball, soccer and baseball…which is hilarious given my lack of care about professional sports. But in our school which is wonderfully arts-heavy and focused on participation and dance, I don’t think they’re getting any actual sports learning. So…I’m the not-by-choice-default coach. (All my friends are laughing at this.)

Anyway, I wanted to have some actual soccer drills going on. The younger kiddo (who loves soccer) was game for some passing and teamwork. The older was just annoyed with me.

She kicks.
Great job. Maybe just a little lighter.
She kicks.
Good. Now can you do it with the side of your food for more control?
I control it just fine! As she’s kicked like a Rockette and the ball’s sailed over my head and way off to the side.
Right, but you can control it more if you kick lightly with the side of your feet.
I kick and demonstrate.
Daaaaad! Stop telling me what to do!
She Rockette-kicks the ball away from me.
I retrieve ball and start dribbling over to her (poorly…but with a bit of control) over to her, trying to show off.

See? If you trot along and kick lightly with the side of your foot, it’s so much easier and you just control the ball and everything stays together and…
Daaad, stop telling me this!


She’s pouting and angry, I’m increasingly annoyed by her lack of willingness.
And mind you – I was exactly the same at her age. Zero interest in sports. My parents constantly encouraging me to show an interest and practice and play in soccer and baseball leagues. I loathed it. But I succumbed to social pressures making me do “boy” things that just didn’t interest me at all.

She’s pouting. She’s angry.
I’m demonstrating and pleading with myself, “god DAMN child, you can do what you want, but learning these skills now will be a life skill that will help you just be well-rounded…”
Daddy, stooooop!
But sweetie, this is 'games with Daddy' time!
You’re not making it fun!
Because you need to learn the skills!
I already know the skills!
But kicking with the side of your foot…
Stooooop! I already know that….
And I kicked the ball to her. And I swear to you, dear dozen readers, I did NOT put extra sauce on it intentionally.
But I did. And it struck her. Hard. In the chest.
Cue: instant hysterical tears of frustration, anger, and pain.
I mean - it couldn’t be that much pain. It wasn’t THAT hard.
But I get it. I admit: I wanted to laugh just a little bit. But I refrained from that. I hugged her. For a long time. I held her sobs and let her calm down as I held her close.
We had a good recovery. And a good cry.
I calmly explained to her all I wrote above - I hated this as a kid, too. But life will be easier if you have some skills for the future when you’re somehow forced to play soccer. Or baseball. Or basketball.
She got it.
And it was time for a snack.

Later, the other feature of the day was when I forced our “social studies.” They were losing focus, understandably.

So I used a link sent to me about virtual visits of world museums. We had options like the British Museum (not a very kid-friendly interactive site), the Guggenheim (fun’ish) and then my kid wanted to go to Sao Paolo.
We did so.

I’m all about forcing culture onto my kiddos. Not matter how torturous.

And on their fabulous tour of what I suppose is main floor of this fab modern art museum (Museu de Arte de São Paolo…the MASP), we got a wonderful reminder and tour of art through ages, from Middle Age portraiture to Renaissance still life, religious everything and then some modern.

And all of it (from the religious forward) had boobs. Lots of boobs.

Some butts, a couple of uncovered vulvas, interestingly no penis until we got to a modern piece of an over-exaggerated baby boy.
Whatever. They were thrilled to look through artistic pornography at a museum in Sao Paolo. At least I had them engaged.
And they’ll remember that little “social studies” tour as the most delightful part of COVID-19 Day 1.

A virtual tour of Museu de Arte de São Paulo…seeing lots of nudity

Not sure if tomorrow will be more about causing tears and exploring nudity. But it seems like a full day, after all.