Pied Piper

With the end of another school year comes the endless parade of half used school supplies returning home in order to be disposed of. What else am I suppose to do with another box of 48 broken crayons, 8 half used notepads and a ruler that was decorated with permanent marker so that you can no longer read the numbers?

Among the trash longing to be disposed of was a musical recorder. Why in the name of music were we asked to purchase these torture devices? There is nothing beautiful about the sound that comes out of these things, unless you ask a 10 year old. Prince gasps when he sees me poised over the trash, "You can't throw THIS away, Mom. I'm really good at it." Prince explains.

Dear god, please don't demonstrate.

This silent prayer was followed by 45 minutes of "Mom, listen to this song!" Callie and I shared a brief moment of mutual understanding as we tried to be supportive of my little pied piper as he played his tunes and danced around the living room. Callie was the first to crack under the pressure.



Prince mistook the howling protests as a sign that she wanting to sing along, so Prince played louder. Callie insisted on waiting out the remainder of the show in the backyard.

Traitor.