The day has arrived.
It’s a rite of passage that all 4th grade parents dread.
No, it’s not the family life / sex talk at school, it’s not frog dissection, and it’s not addition and subtraction of fractions.
It’s the recorder.
Large brought his recorder home from school yesterday. I knew this day was coming . . . we pre-ordered the recorder and he decided he wanted a red one with a blue strap. Now if that is not the epitome of cool, I don't know what is. Can’t you picture James Dean with a red recorder hanging from a blue strap around his neck? Or Pink, or Lady Gaga, or Madonna?
Large proceeded to play me a “tune” on his recorder. Apparently it was “Hot Cross Buns” but it sounded like one of the following:
a. someone swinging cats around in a pillowcase
b. a raccoon who is giving birth
c. a drunk piccolo player
d. a cat-swinging, pregnant, drunk raccoon playing piccolo
|Please, make it stop!|
Large was so excited about his recorder, I almost felt bad for telling him to “please make it stop.” I suppose a good mother would have told him it sounded lovely, but I just didn’t have it in me.
Lest you think I’m exaggerating . . . Large told me “one of the deaf kids in class was almost crying because it was hurting his ears.” At the risk of being insensitive, it’s not a good sign when the kid who can’t hear starts feeling thankful that he only has four fully-functioning senses.
I don’t know how the elementary school music teacher makes it through her day without hittin’ the sauce. God love that woman.