What our little boy is made of
Snips and snails and puppy dog tails, that is what little boys are made of. I know this only too well after living and breathing boy for almost three years now. It was driven home when I heard my friend whose child is the same age is having a princess party while Tin’s birthday next week will be a music party.
What is our little boy made of – jokes he loves to tell, friends he loves to hang out with, music he loves to sing and dance to, and instruments he loves to cobble together in the most inventive ways – two drum sticks down a trumpet produce a? you got it – trombone. A fork is a? you got it – trombone. His shadow on the wall best displays his? you got it – trombone.
His love of music and desire for a? you got it – trombone is why he is getting a pocket trumpet for his birthday (frombones are impossible to play for little boys) and why his birthday will be a music fest. Who is this little boy that can press the right number on the elevator, whose verbal acumen is tremendous before his third birthday – who was telling me about the “circumstances that led to an incident” this morning, and who runs fast, jumps high, and climbs anything in sight? – he wrote the book on these activities.
But his theme song for true is I got the music in me, I got the music in me.
