I took all three girls to our five year olds music lesson last night. Arriving with a pint-sized entourage isn’t always easy but I was determined to keep the baby distracted long enough for Ellie to learn the subtle nuances of the Fa key and why it is such a long, long way to run.

Big sister was assigned the role of parent/guardian/helper/friend/therapist/stylist/page turner alongside her younger sibling on the bench. The few times I raced past chasing a runaway baby whose legs were no match for the speedy stroller she was using as a walker, I noticed the assigned helper had become distracted by an interesting pattern on the below carpet fibres and there she sat tracing boot residue with her finger while the frazzled five year old flipped pages in an urgent search for the highlighted Fas in “The Frog Song.”

The instructor waved me in but her welcoming gesture weakened when I held the diapered sprinter up high enough for a full view through the glass panes on the door.

After chasing the baby, the stroller, closing doors, excusing ourselves and apologizing to the many, MANY private lessons she had interrupted, I decided I would try my luck joining the rest of the family in Ellie’s classroom. Perhaps the carpet fibres were indeed as engaging as Hanna had led us to believe.

The kids were clustered in front of a wipe board and Miss Brenda sang, “Fa Fa Fa, this is Fa.” The baby wasted no time responding, “Do Do Do. Mi. Mi. Do. Do. Do.” Everyone laughed. I dripped.

Then something magical happened. The teacher continued singing and Chloe started into some form of interpretive dance. Her legs bent at the knees, she bounced up and down, every so often she would pause, lift alternating feet and stomp them down on the very canvas of carpet Hanna had chosen for her masterpiece. If the stomp had been heavier, it would have been a tantrum but this was definitely a dance.

Oh my God, she was sort of behaving.

The teacher had the children re-cluster around the piano, sitting in that unfathomably flexible knee pose that only advanced hot yoga students are introduced to. The rest of us are encouraged to rest in child’s pose. Chloe followed in behind, looked at the funny position the other kids were in and did her best to follow suit.

I was beaming—almost crying actually. My baby was NOT ruining the class for her sister, the other kids or the parents, she hadn’t disturbed Hanna’s mud smear and I might be able to sit and enjoy the music.

Miss Brenda played some sort of Simon Says game where she tapped her head and shoulders in an attempt to teach the kids a note called “top hat.” The kids followed along, Hanna continued her tracing and Chloe reached up to her head. She smiled at me. This was too good to be true.

Instead of tapping her head, then her shoulders, the logical, five year old thing to do, the 15 month old swatted the heads of the two girls in front of her in response to “top” and when it came time for “hat” she yanked their tangled hair in an effort to pull fistfuls from their skulls.

I give it a B plus. (The old B plus from when I was a kid. Modern day F…..as in Fa)