Our boys have grown up in a rock house. See exhibit A, the Maker, above; they’re groomed for it before they’re outta Huggies.
But the First, being first, set the bar for his younger sibs, and he did a pretty fair job of it.
When he was four years old he had two friends at church named Jimmy and Julie who were his same age, and without whom he was rarely seen. Someone decided that the three of them would be a charming singing trio, and undertook to form them into a group, predictably named “The Cherubs,” which practiced regularly for several weeks.
The First woke up stoked on the morning The Cherubs were set to debut. “I got my first gig today!” he told me when I got him out of bed.
He dragged his underbed boxes out and chose his gig threads. His teacher had requested that the boys wear khakis and a dark shirt, but the First felt that was not quite gigworthy enough and dug around until he found his single favorite accessory: what we called his “Elvis belt.” It was a silver glitter belt that I’d found at some teenybopper shop; it was long enough on a four-year-old that it could circle him twice before buckling; very 80′s.
And it really added just the right touch to the khakis and dark shirt thing.
The sun shining through the windows of the church that morning made the belt throw some amazing sparkles around when the Cherubs went on. The First did some cool little Buddy Holly hip-swiveling when he noticed.
Nobody stormed the stage, but they wanted to, I’m certain.
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