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?
Totally. Badass.
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.
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Be nice, kids.