It's official. April has the Gee-tar Jones and she's got it bad. Not that I'm in any way nervous or anything. Just because she comes home each night and gleefully runs to her guitar like she hasn't seen the thing in centuries and plops down on the couch and baby-lets-play-a-song strums away, doesn't mean she's losing interest in me. I mean seriously now.
Let's move on.
I'd like to share the fetching tale of how April landed her first guitar. She calls it her first guitar, even though she also bought one in junior high school and never actually played it. Why? Because this one is "pretty!" Duh! It's a story that takes quite a swervy turn for the weird midway through, so make sure you don't fall asleep while reading this or anything. Here goes.
After strumming renditions of "Jingle Bells" and "When the Saints Go Marching In" to her hearts content using a borrowed guitar from my Dad for a little over a week, April decided she was indeed a serious musician and needed a serious instrument of her own. Or at least a pretty one.
So on to Craigslist she went, and soon the object of her desire appeared in the form of a small color photograph on our computer screen. It was quite a beauty, I have to admit. All red and shiny and lovely. A true serious instrument for a true serious artist who has been serious for more than a week now.
She shot an email off into cyberspace inquiring about the red beauty and spent the next 72 hours saying, "Why hasn't he emailed me back yet?"
Finally, he did email her back and April managed to stop jumping up and down in celebration long enough to get directions to the nice man's house. That evening we hopped aboard the Green Machine and set course for Nampa expecting smooth sailing all the way.
We were halfway there when the water stopped being smooth and started splish-splashing along the bow. Michael began dramatically stating that his tummy hurt. He's quite the actor (acting, thank you!) you see, so we've learned to ignore him when he does this. Around 99 percent of the time everything works out perfectly and our future Oscar winner moves on to another scene, but there is that pesky one percent, however, where the little dude is not joking and this happened to be one of those times.
Here's a rule of thumb for all parents - Basically anything can happen at anytime for any reason at all. So be ready Freddy.
I knew we were in uh-oh territory when Michael began making a buzzing noise with his lips. This is quite a distinct sound he only makes when he's about to lose his lunch, as it were. April also recognized this sound and began frantically searching for a kleenex, napkin, towel, t-shirt, oh-lord anything to wipe up the coming mess please let there be something. Wouldn't you know there wasn't a towel or anything absorbent anywhere.
Well you can guess what happened next. April comforted the little guy the best that she could. "Poor Mi-Mi, it's going to be okay. Poor, poor Mi-Mi."
I comforted him in my own special way. "Ew gross!"
We turned immediately turned around and returned home empty handed. I tossed his clothes in the washing machine, ran some hot water and put Michael in the tub. In a few minutes Michael was playing happily covered in bubble bath and pouring water in and out of a large water cup that makes up his favorite bath game.
Once we knew Michael was indeed alright (we're pretty sure it was a food allergy), April got that "man, I wish I had my guitar right now," look in her eyes, so she called the nice man and explained what happened. He told her to come on over in a little while and get the guitar and in a little while she set sail for Nampa once more.
She returned a couple hours later the proud Momma of a lovely shiny red guitar. The two have been inseparable since. Again, not that I'm threatened in the slightest. On a completely unrelated note I'm thinking about buying some lovely shiny red shirts. Something with a musical feel.
Dave is reading "The Dharma Bums" and thinks writing long drawn out sentences that ramble a bit is so very Zen. Please excuse him, kiddies.
- Dave
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