All three of our boys have been homeschooled. Two years ago the First decided he wanted to go to public school for his 7th grade year, and he made the transition beautifully. Last year the Ice followed him, and had his first year of middle school. This year the Maker was ready to take his turn, and will be in fourth grade. (They really do get younger every year.)
The Maker had selected his outfit (pictured) and kitted up his camo backpack well in advance. When his dad was going through the backpack one last time to make sure his pencils, notebook, and signed forms were all present and accounted for, he saw a new addition: a recorder.
“Uh, Honey, what do you need this for?” he asked, stumped.
“It’s my recorder,” the Maker replied, as if it weren’t patently obvious. His parents can be so obtuse.
“You’re probably not going to need that… uh, today.” The thought of future recorder lessons crossed both our minds: oh fun! The Husband glanced at me over the Maker’s head. I gave him the nod: It’ll be fine.
“It’s a Yamaha,” the Maker explained, as if to dispel the last of our doubts… about something.
“But, then again, I think it’ll be fine,” his dad offered, as they zipped the backpack up again. “You know, I’m pretty sure Billy Joel kept a recorder with him on the road to compose with.”
“Yeah,” I said, ready for my opening, “‘Cause a piano won’t fit in a backpack.”
We all nodded solemnly, sagely.
Don’t know if Billy Joel’s was a Yamaha, though.
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