He's in the sixth grade now and continues to play. The school's band director is pure genius and somehow managed to pull the most wondrous sounds from the band as a whole, even with our son playing in it.
What's more wonderful than our oldest son deciding to 'stick with it' this year? Our second son becoming enamored with the idea of playing in the band, too. Could it GET any better?
Oh, but it can. He's now in the fifth grade and decided to play...the saxophone. Yes, because our children hate us. I carried them in my body for nine months, nursed them FOREVER and have loved them more than my own life from the minute they were born, and this is how they repay us.
Not only do we have a fifteen minute practice session of agony every night of the week in our home, it's in stereo now. One on the trumpet, while the other, because you evidently have to LEARN on a clarinet before you can get to the saxophone, squawks and squeaks his way through a series of songs that continue to linger somewhere in the universe.
It's a life altering, ear bleeding, painfully long fifteen minutes which would seem so short to some, but to those of us who must endure, every, single, night...it's about to break us.
I'm legitimately considering giving a recording to the government for tactical purposes. Even the hardest of criminals would break within ten minutes. Not even kidding.
So, for now, ear plugs it is. The dog creeps slowly against the walls when the instruments come out, but we're all getting through it, together.
There's still hope for our third son. He's in the second grade now, with three more years to decide on a quieter approach.
With our luck, he'll go for the drums.
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