Sister called this morning to give us their game plan for the day so we would know when to expect them and cook accordingly. In the background I could hear what sounded like the drum solo part of a concert going on in her living room. Nephew was playing the drum set that Santa had given him for Christmas. As sis made her way through the kitchen and out into the laundry room with the phone, the drumming became less and less pronounced. “He’s frustrated,” she said. “Why?” I asked. “He was watching a Dream Theatre DVD and sat down at the drum set so he could play along with the musicians and when he couldn’t, he dramatically threw himself across the set, proclaiming, “I can’t play like it!” Oh the melancholy-ness of being four years old on Christmas morning and unable to play drums like Mike Portnoy.
Extra holiday bonus material, courtesy of my friend, the conductor of a youth orchestra (it is a rant on Pachelbel):