Hot Cross Buuuuuuns!
My daughter had her first clarinet lesson on Friday. On Friday evening, as she and I watched the latest episode of "Project Runway," she showed me how to put the clarinet together. I must say she assembled it very deftly. I was glad to see that she must have paid attention during the lesson she'd received at school. Then she proceeded to play "Hot Cross Buns" for me. Oh my.
After a few attempts, the dogs started to pace and act anxious. "Why don't we call it a day?" I suggested. "You have all weekend to practice."
She practiced on Saturday and again on Sunday. On Sunday evening, the dogs came to me and asked me if I could drop them off at the nearest kill shelter. "We'll take our chances," they said.
I'm glad the kid showed so much enthusiasm for practicing the clarinet over the weekend. She did it voluntarily, and she is not a child who does anything voluntarily. Plus, I could hear that she was making progress with each repetition of the song. I have to think her band instructor will be impressed at her efforts. I mean, she hot cross bunned like nobody's business.
But oh, those squeaky notes! Imagine that you're walking along, blissfully singing "Hot Cross Buns" (as one does) and that right as you're hitting the word "buns," you step on some glass in your bare feet. "Hot Cross BUUUNS!" The last word comes out in a shriek. Then, imagine that you've kidnapped a small woodland fairy who has an exceptionally high-pitched voice. Just as you are choking the life out of her (as one does), you force her to use her last breath to (rapidly) squeak out, "one a penny! two a penny! hot cross buns!" That's the best way I can describe my weekend to you.
We try to get her to practice in her bedroom (vs. the living room) as much as possible. As P and I listened to "Hot Cross SQUEAK!" on Saturday afternoon, he finally announced, "I'm going to the liquor store - do you need anything?"
"Um, yes. Just bring me everything, I guess."
One of her friends spent the night on Saturday so we received some respite from the clarinet at that point. They were too busy playing Minecraft and whatnot. The girls apparently stayed up until 2:45 a.m. (and miraculously made it to church on time yesterday). I guess I could have tried to force them to go to bed earlier, but they're in fifth grade. I figured they're old enough to understand the consequences of less-than-stellar decisions. After church, we took them out for lunch at Subway and then to an orchard to pick apples. Honestly, I couldn't believe they were still upright at that point.
If you'd like to come over for a visit this coming weekend, I'm sure there will be a concert for your listening pleasure. I'm sort of hoping we move on to "Mary Had a Little Lamb" or something like that, because my buns cannot get much crosser.
After a few attempts, the dogs started to pace and act anxious. "Why don't we call it a day?" I suggested. "You have all weekend to practice."
She practiced on Saturday and again on Sunday. On Sunday evening, the dogs came to me and asked me if I could drop them off at the nearest kill shelter. "We'll take our chances," they said.
I'm glad the kid showed so much enthusiasm for practicing the clarinet over the weekend. She did it voluntarily, and she is not a child who does anything voluntarily. Plus, I could hear that she was making progress with each repetition of the song. I have to think her band instructor will be impressed at her efforts. I mean, she hot cross bunned like nobody's business.
But oh, those squeaky notes! Imagine that you're walking along, blissfully singing "Hot Cross Buns" (as one does) and that right as you're hitting the word "buns," you step on some glass in your bare feet. "Hot Cross BUUUNS!" The last word comes out in a shriek. Then, imagine that you've kidnapped a small woodland fairy who has an exceptionally high-pitched voice. Just as you are choking the life out of her (as one does), you force her to use her last breath to (rapidly) squeak out, "one a penny! two a penny! hot cross buns!" That's the best way I can describe my weekend to you.
We try to get her to practice in her bedroom (vs. the living room) as much as possible. As P and I listened to "Hot Cross SQUEAK!" on Saturday afternoon, he finally announced, "I'm going to the liquor store - do you need anything?"
"Um, yes. Just bring me everything, I guess."
One of her friends spent the night on Saturday so we received some respite from the clarinet at that point. They were too busy playing Minecraft and whatnot. The girls apparently stayed up until 2:45 a.m. (and miraculously made it to church on time yesterday). I guess I could have tried to force them to go to bed earlier, but they're in fifth grade. I figured they're old enough to understand the consequences of less-than-stellar decisions. After church, we took them out for lunch at Subway and then to an orchard to pick apples. Honestly, I couldn't believe they were still upright at that point.
If you'd like to come over for a visit this coming weekend, I'm sure there will be a concert for your listening pleasure. I'm sort of hoping we move on to "Mary Had a Little Lamb" or something like that, because my buns cannot get much crosser.
 |
| I got a kick out of this goat standing stoically on a bridge in the goat enclosure. I imagined that he doesn't let other goats cross the bridge until they solve a riddle. |
Comments