Yesterday my family and I packed up and headed to our two oldest sons' hot, stinky elementary school gym to watch our oldest son play in his first concert. (He plays the cello....for now.)
The proud mother in me wants go on and on about how wonderful it was, but the proud mother in me would be lying.
Don't get me wrong, I'm super proud of my son. He's one of only two cellists in the band. He's only played for half the school year, and he can read his sheet music and pick out songs by ear. Unfortunately, because there are only two cellists in the band...most of the music the teacher chose didn't even have parts for them. He got to play two short songs, and then had to sit back and let all the other musicians play all the big fun songs. Third graders were only allowed to choose between the violin and the cello.....knowing my sanity couldn't handle the sound of an 8 year old learning the violin, I steered him toward the cello. Next year, he plans to switch to the saxophone, and he wants a guitar for his birthday.
All that being said......I was FAR from the only parent in that gym wincing in pain when the band started playing. LOL. I am always highly amused by the plastered on half-smile and the glazed, zombie eyed look of parents who are being held hostage in torturous situations by their love and pride for their children.
At the end of the day, I'm glad my son has the opportunity to play and learn about music. He loves it and it makes him more confident and better-rounded. So sitting through horrible elementary school band concerts with a smile plastered on my face while I secretly play Spades on my phone is a small price to pay.
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