My six year old is a busy guy. After a quick homework drawing to represent, “we are painting 2 red birds”, he convinced me to pitch baseballs to him, so he can practice hitting before his kindergarten team starts practice in a few weeks.
Still in February, our three innings were played in freezing temperatures, me the only one wearing a jacket. So we came inside to warm up.
The discordant sounds of his brothers practicing their instruments drifted up the basement stairs, and he took off, shouting over his shoulder, “I gotta go to band practice!”
Seconds later, his bleating vuvuzela drowned out Piano Man by our eleven year old pianist and Seven Nation Army simultaneously picked by our ten year old on his electric guitar.
I was later informed that they are working together on a fusion of pop, hip-hop and rock n’ roll.
But he really wants to play drums.