Invest in ear plugs

If you happen by our house in the afternoon, it might sound like we are strangling Canadian geese. And while I have thought about it, especially when they poop on the running trails and refuse to move as you run by, I assure you there is no "fowl" play--(oh, I crack myself up).

It is only Paris, at long last blasting away on his blasted trombone. He was one of the last kids at school to get his instrument. Apparently, the rental company thought the demand for music lessons would be down with the economy tanked and all that. What they fail to realize is that music lessons through the school is one of the cheapest extra curricular activites there is. Everyday Paris would come home, crushed, as if his heart was just broken, or his pet had just died. No trombone today. He would be on the verge of tears. And everyday they would tell him, tomorrow. But tomorrow would come and he would drag in, frustrated and dejected, trombone-less.

Finally it arrived and I am trying to be very strict with the 20 min. daily practice. Although he only knows enough to do a scale. So he practices his scale for a good 5 min. and then alternates between blasting the horn, and trying to beat box on the trombone, until he gets tired of that and spends the rest of the time cleaning out his spit.

Still, watching him shoulder that shiny brass instrument, his arms barely long enough to operate the slide, his little cheeks puffing in and out--I can't help but think he'll make a great musician someday, though there's very little evidence at present. We'll keep you posted.