Music is in the air in more ways than one. The birds are starting to sing outside because of the warm weather. The kids are still being forced to sit in front of the piano 30 minutes a day to practice. And Number One Son's recorder arrived in the mail. I'm not talking about a tape recorder. I think some antique shops may still have one of those left. Otherwise, the ones that haven't made it to the landfill are at the museum.
The recorder I'm talking about is the black flute we all tried playing in grade school music class. Apparently, the school offers recorders for purchase complete with music book and CD. So now we can enjoy all of the squawky, whistley, ear piercery beauty of the recorder in the comfort of our own homes.
We get to hear Hot Cross Buns, Merrily We Roll Along, March of the Recorders and many more timeless (outdated) classics. If I can find a recorder book of Green Day songs, I'm buying it at any cost.
N1S has a certain advantage in that he has taken piano lessons for a few years and can read music. But even with this talent, his playing has prompted this plea from his little sister.
Everyone's a critic. I don't know where 'You are my king' came from.N1S 'rockin' out on the recorder. I told him, "Chicks dig a guy in a band."