This boy of mine marches to the beat of a different drummer. He’s got his own groove. He hears his own song, both in the metaphoric sense, and in literal terms.
This kid LOVES all things musical. It can be John Denver or Jimmy Hendrix, all he asks is that it’s “louder Mama, turn it up LOUDER!”
Wanna know what he wanted for his third birthday?
A “Gun tar” as it were. He played with it, slept with it, drug it everywhere, until it went the way of all toy guitars.
Since it’s untimely demise, he has asked, with regularity, “Mama when can I get a real one? Not a toy one, a REAL guitar, for REALLY playing?” He’s midway between 5 and 6 now, and still, it’s all about the guitar.
He waits all week for World Music Night on our local radio station. He professes that flamenco (or “flamingo” as he calls it”) is maybe his favorite kind of music. Maybe though, it’s “rock”. So “I’m gonna need two guitars, Mama. A ‘lectric one, and a ‘coo stick one.”
He pushes “replay” on this, about a half million times a day.
It’s funny really because you’d swear, if you saw us together that this was not my child. I’m darkish, dark skin, dark hair, brown eyes. He’s glow in the dark pale, freckles over his nose, blue eyed and blonde. Deep down though, my boy has his Mama’s Latin roots. He’s got little fingers that are just itchin’ to pick out a world beat.
… and I’ve a delicious little secret. His day is coming. It is right around the bend…
More to come 🙂