Do you know what fifteen year old boys don’t like?
I mean… other than the fact that they don’t like picking dirty laundry up from their bedroom floors or disinfecting their bathrooms or hearing the word CASSEROLE in response to their question of WHAT’S FOR DINNER TONIGHT?
They don’t like having their picture taken.
Now, I have it on good authority that a teenage girl who approaches a fifteen year old boy and hollers out, “Let’s take a group selfie!” as she holds her selfie stick at arm’s length will actually capture the elusive creature’s grin on digital memory. HOWEVER, anytime the mother of a fifteen year old boys hollers out, “Picture,” the boy will disappear like the steam off your forgotten cup of coffee.
Getting a decent snapshot of the teenage male child with the Canon is exactly like getting a clear head shot of Big Foot and the Loch Ness Monster. That is precisely why I have forty-six million snapshots of Thing 2 to share on this blog these days, and approximately four of the boy. I may be extremely late in sharing these, but the boy had a piano concert and a band concert WAY BACK IN DECEMBER, and I felt like those were prime BRING YOUR CAMERA opportunities for me.
I have no idea where the boy got his gift for music, because it certainly isn’t a rung on his DNA ladder that was put into place from either his mom or his dad. We are both the equivalent of THEIR MUSICAL ABILITIES ARE LIMITED TO DOWNLOADING SONGS FROM ITUNES.
I have no musical talent beyond that, unless you count the fact that I can still squeak out Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star on my violin. Of course, it won’t be pretty, and it’ll sound more like someone’s enormously long, manicured fingernails slowly dragging down a chalkboard until your ears bleed, but I can still move my fingers well enough to make people sit up and yell, “Quit slaughtering that nursery rhyme!!!”
I won’t lie. Hubs’ musical talent is a little less than this.
And then… we (right along with Jesus’ help) managed to create the boy, who is a musical star. Our kid can ROCK the piano, and he plays the meanest clarinet I’ve ever heard. He has also taught himself how to play a couple of different saxophones, and here’s the kicker: Before the boy came along, I didn’t even know that there were different kinds of saxophones. I thought that the saxophone was a lone instrument, but the boy assured me that there are alto saxes and baritone saxes and soprano saxophones and STOP! I can’t remember all of these!
Needless to say, you can play your jazz music on a lot of different things.
Personally, I like to play mine on the iPod.
Except the opposite of that, because I’m not the most enormous jazz fan in the world.
In December, the boy had a piano concert, and Hubs and Thing 2 and I were all there to cheer him on. I could honestly sit and listen to him play that piano for HOURS AND HOURS AND HOURS, because I love to hear piano music.
The boy played two piano solos that nearly made me cry, they were so good, and then he played a duet with another student.
Notice that he refused to look out into the audience when he was presented with his medal, because HIS MOTHER MIGHT HAVE HER CAMERA. He just stood there, tall and proud, on the platform with the gold draped around his neck, while the National Anthem played over the speakers.
Oh, I kid.
He just slouched there.
And then, the following week, that kid played his clarinet in the high school’s band concert. You can bet all of your dollars that I made him SIT DOWN ON THE FIREPLACE! NOW! SIT THERE! WE AREN’T LEAVING UNTIL YOU’VE SAT AND HAD YOUR PICTURE TAKEN, BECAUSE YOU’RE WEARING THAT HANDSOME TIE!!
So, he sat, because me not taking him to the band concert was going to cause an enormous deduction in his class grade.
As in… Goodbye, Harvard. I lost my 4.0 because I wouldn’t let my mother take my picture.
Everything is going to block your child’s face from the camera in the audience.
I think the freshmen boys plan it that way.
I would’ve been in Row One, but apparently at HIGH SCHOOL band concerts, you need to reserve your seat six days ahead of time, if you hope to be in rows one through seven. High school band parents are a serious crowd, I learned. They camp out for days with pop-up tents and sleeping bags and bottles of water for brushing their teeth with, when it comes to scoring front row seats.
I had no idea.
Hubs and I are pretty stinking proud of the boy and his musical ability.
He’s a good egg.
And, this weekend, he had some friends over for a while, before they all rushed off to eat dinner together and see a movie. I thought, with girls in the big pack of good friends, that MAYBE the boys would agree to a snapshot.
I was totally right.
That pack of kids right there? Yeah. That’s what Jesus does when you’re not looking, in answer to all of your prayers for your child to grow up with fantastic friends. Jesus just pushes a big batch of kiddos together, and you sigh and realize, “These kids are fantastic!” Their hearts and souls are good and kind and wonderful, and… well… THANK YOU, JESUS, FOR THESE KIDS MY SON CALLS CLOSE FRIENDS.
Y’all have a good evening.