Oh for the love of pete.

I'm turning into my mother. Once in high school I had the lead in a one act play. I got to wear a dress that was covered in blue sequins. In retrospect the character I was playing might have been called a cougar. Luring young men and all that. Anyhow, after the play when I saw my mom she was crying those "tears of pride". I found this odd for two reasons. 1. The play kind of sucked. And 2. It was my only lead role ever for a reason.


Tonight my big dude had his very first band concert.


He loves his trumpet so.


Yes, that's my baby. Right there in the front row. You see what he's doing there? He's sitting at attention - waiting for the band director to start. Notice most of the other kids are chit-chatting, and I see some wild flailing in the back rows going on. But not my baby. He's ready. He is a musician. (We should stop here to note that while I played 1st chair clarinet all through senior high, I was not a musician. I would have been flailing about or at least talking to anyone I could make eye contact with!).

So without further adieu, I give you Jolly Old St. Nicholas - by the beginner band. I'm telling you the title in case you can't recognize the tune. And yes, I cried the tears of pride.