The Country Mice

We have a new addition to our home.

Fully acoustic, non-digital, reverberating, pulsing, beating, thumping banging.

Loud.

It’s called a junior kit — oooooh, spe-shul as the offspring say — and I suppose I should be thankful for that.

Because:

Because the future, dear reader, could resemble this.

Every morning, from 07h00 until 07h10 I hear

tap (rest) tap (rest) tap (rest) tap (rest)

tap tap tap tap tap tap tap tap

tap (rest) tap (rest) tap (rest) tap (rest)

tap tap tap tap tap tap tap tap.

Every morning.

On Tuesday mornings, after the tap (rest) tap (rest) tap — oh never mind.

On Tuesdays mornings we hop in the car at 08h00 and arrive at school for a drum lesson with Mr. P.

Mr. P is a fun guy and throws in a few tap tukka tap tukka tap tukka to liven things up.

And that’s just great because now I know I’ll have something new to look forward to each morning.

Tap tukka tap tukka tap tukka tap tukka.

Gets the arms and legs moving early in the day.

Helps the princess rise from her slumber.

So far our abilities are confined to the snare and bass drums. Lawd a mercy when he starts on the cymbals!

But Mr. P has big plans for our lad.

Today we hauled home an electric bass and an amp.

Mercy. That’s all I’m looking for. Mercy.