A few months ago, Thing2 expressed an interest in playing drums (along with guitar and piano). He had the guitar and had taught himself “Imagine” on the piano.
When the obligatory plea for drums came, I attempted what I thought would be a bit of genius parenting.
“If you can practice enought at school to play in a concert,” I said, “We’ll look into it.”
As it happens, thought, December is just as good a time as April 1rst for life to pull the grand-daddy of pranks on us. It’s also the time when Thing2 had two concerts at school – one for chorus and a second one for the band where he plays a number of instruments. The chorus concert was first.
Thing2 and a couple of his friends were scheduled to play as well as sing at the chorus performance, and I knew he had mentioned playing percussion. Having completely forgotten our ‘deal’, I imagined him playing a bongo drum or a triangle.
We got to the concert early enough to get a good seat and read the program. When the second song ended, Thing2 and his band mates made their way from the risers to the group of instruments. Thing2 seated himself behind an impressive drum kit and the Big Guy and I gave each other our ‘Color me impressed’ looks.
The band started playing a song called ‘Christmas in LA’, a pop song that it heavy on rhythm. And right there was Thing2 keeping the beat for everyone. Every rat-a-tat-tat made me look from my video camera to the Big Guy and back to the video of the performance.
The Big Guy is extremely musical. He plays guitar for folk music group once a month and can pick out any tune on his guitar. Watching Thing2 starting to follow in his creative footsteps was the best Christmas presents we could ask for, but there was a tiny lump of coal headed our way.
The concert ended, and we began the task of pealing Thing2 away from his friends. We were already talking about the band concert next week as we walked to the car. The Big Guy went to get the car, and Thing2 gave me a hug as we waited.
“So you really liked it?” He asked, bouncing from foot to foot.
“I — we loved it,” I answered without needing to think about it. I told him how impressed we were with the drumming. He smiled mischievously then.
“Mom?” I recognized the tone as one that usually accompanies a request for money. “Do you remember your promise?”
“Buuuhhhh,” I answered, going through my mental catalogue of promises ad requests.
“About a drum kit?”
And, suddenly, I remembered why it’s always a bad idea to think you have outstmarted your kid.
We’re currently researching kits and options. Score 1 (more) for the kids.