Sunflower Music Festival

I know my son is hungry, but instead of just eating, he is writhing, chomping, screaming, and making his whole body as rigid as a board. If I take the bottle away, he demands it, which is no surprise. At his last feeding, he only ate two ounces because he was distracted and over-stimulated by loud music and a scary audience.

We went to the opening of the Sunflower Music Festival together. This is a two-week long classical-music series presented at Washburn University. The outing was a moderate success. People like to applause a lot. They applause when the conductor comes out, when the orchestra comes out, when the orchestra tunes their instruments--"bravo! Well tuned!" Topeka is the Capital of the State of Insecurity. We applause all the time just to cover our bases--"should we be clapping? Well, I better, just in case." All this applauding got David really upset and he began to cry just as bows touched their strings. So we spent the first half of the program in the lobby. Fortunately he fell asleep during intermission and either slept or ate through most of the second half. But even though he gnawed at his bottle for over 30 minutes, he did not drink much because he was too busy looking at the lights and the people and trying to figure out where all that music was coming from. He was also perturbed by the first violist, feeling that he playied mechanically and without emotion. This made him fussy so we had to leave before the end.

I was the hero for taking him, though. People were just pleased as punch that I was exposing him to classical music so soon. "Start them young, and they will be whining elitists when they grow up." He played his part well. He is at the stage where every time he sees a new face, he smiles and makes cute cooing noises. He is a big hit. I now seek out opportunities to introduce him to new people--"look son! We haven't met that man wandering own the street muttering to himself! Let's go smile at him!" On the whole, it was a good evening. A good start, anyway. I will keep taking him and he will get used to the applause, then he will learn how to be annoyed by it, and then he will be loudly sarcastic about it and we will have to stop taking him out.

But at least by that point he will be able to feed himself and I won't have to fight to keep him on the bottle, which he wants but WON'T DRINK. I try repositioning him. I reach under to lift--OUCH! Hard metal stabs the back of my hand. I have left my keys on my belt where they have been nestling in the back of David's thigh. I remove them and settle him back in for a quiet feeding more appropriate for a boy of refined culture. If he gets to the bottom of the bottle, maybe I will applause.