The kids at school frequently characterize me as a hard case - stubborn, mean, intimidating. They'd be shocked if they knew what a push over I am for my son. I indulge his penchant for books, sheet music, instruments, and museums. Perhaps it is because I love all these past times as well, or perhaps it is because I love him. (I'm leaning toward the latter because I tend to do the same with Jeff's yearnings, so I think there's a pattern there.) His latest request is to change schools. He has spent several years as a misfit in our sleepy bedroom community that somehow thinks it's still a 1950's tiny town full of five-generation families. So, this week he decided he'd had enough and transferred to the high school where Jeff and I work. (Mind you, I had some misgivings, but Jade and his dad convinced in the end.) To my relief, he has been exceptionally happy since his arrival. (Insert happy sigh here.) So, what else could he want? I'm glad you asked.
After school today the boy was noodling on the piano in Jeff's room when the band director appeared out of nowhere. (Teachers have that sneaky power, you know.) After listening to some improv and asking Jade to play some specific chords, he recruited the kid for jazz band. (Hooray! Jade wanted to be in the jazz band at his old school.) Unfortunately, the group meets at 6:30 a.m. Personally, I can't picture anyone wanting to blow a horn, strum a guitar, or plink on the piano at that ungodly hour, but apparently a fair number of students do. The dilemma, of course, is that Jeff and I would have to go to work early in order to take our son to school. Since my bleary mornings and need for coffee are practically legendary, the guys knew they'd have to tread lightly. Thus, after school Jeff took us all to Sonic, popped the top on the convertible, and plied me with onion rings and a pineapple shake before mentioning the invitation. And what could I say? My son, who plans to be a professional musician, has an opportunity to spend an hour each day doing what he loves in the company of his compadres. I guess I'll just have to go to bed a little earlier or buy a bigger coffee cup.
After school today the boy was noodling on the piano in Jeff's room when the band director appeared out of nowhere. (Teachers have that sneaky power, you know.) After listening to some improv and asking Jade to play some specific chords, he recruited the kid for jazz band. (Hooray! Jade wanted to be in the jazz band at his old school.) Unfortunately, the group meets at 6:30 a.m. Personally, I can't picture anyone wanting to blow a horn, strum a guitar, or plink on the piano at that ungodly hour, but apparently a fair number of students do. The dilemma, of course, is that Jeff and I would have to go to work early in order to take our son to school. Since my bleary mornings and need for coffee are practically legendary, the guys knew they'd have to tread lightly. Thus, after school Jeff took us all to Sonic, popped the top on the convertible, and plied me with onion rings and a pineapple shake before mentioning the invitation. And what could I say? My son, who plans to be a professional musician, has an opportunity to spend an hour each day doing what he loves in the company of his compadres. I guess I'll just have to go to bed a little earlier or buy a bigger coffee cup.
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