Like Father, Like Mother, Like Daughter

Friday night found us visiting some new friends at their house in the country. We've been there before, but there was something new this time.

Rock Band.

And oh. my. stars. That game is addictive, especially to a room crowded with teens, pre-teens, and little girls. They played alllllllllll night long. I hope to never hear "Wanted Dead or Alive" or "I Think I'm Paranoid" for a very long time. But out of it all, K has found a new passion.

K has discovered the drums. She eyed those drumsticks with fascination until someone handed them over and she refused to let them go for the rest of the night. Now, honestly, does this surprise anyone? After all, both her parents were dedicated percussionists for a long time. K, however, has never quite gotten the concept that a song has a beat, a rhythm, a way to count and keep things going the same tempo. She has never been able to clap to the beat of any song at church, but Rock Band has changed all that. She needed help on some of the drums and she "failed" quite a bit at the beginning, but after an hour or so, she could play all four drums and the bass and still make over 50%. Not bad for a rhythmically-challenged 7-year-old.

On Saturday, Rock Band was constantly on the tip of her tongue. On Sunday, she had moved beyond just a game. "Mom, can you buy just a pair of drumsticks?" "Really?!? Where?" "Can I have some?" I explained that you can buy drumsticks and a practice pad that acts like a drum, but it's not as annoying, and no, I won't run out and buy them for her right now.

Of course, my parents might. They may run immediately to the music store and buy the child the loudest drum set they can find, all the while laughing maniacally. They'll be thinking that it's payback time for all those hours I spent practicing and they spent plugging their ears.