We arrive on time – that much is true,

And Henry is all smiles for class.

The teacher lets him strum her guitar

While I prepare to feel like an ass.

The music starts and everyone sings,

And everyone else knows the tune,

But Henry’s Mommy hasn’t been there in weeks

So she hums awkwardly like a buffoon.

The gestures – oh, the gestures! –

The entire room knows what to do;

Hands up high, hands down low,

I am able to anticipate a few.

It’s not just that I can’t always make it.

(Trying to get over this guilt about working);

It’s the judgment I feel from not following along,

The pity glances and the side smirking.

And maybe I’m imagining some of that –

And truly, I don’t really care,

Because five minutes in, my baby reminds me

The real reason we take him there:

He wanders the circle, patting kids’ heads

Or dances off to the mirror all alone;

The music fills up that sweet little heart

And he is free to make it his own.

So sorry, honey – Mommy’s never been good

At getting her homework done.

So we’ll be the ones who don’t know the words,

But we’ll be the ones having the most fun.