Flock of Skipgulls

I've been having 80s flashbacks lately.










I can't figure out why....




And he ra-a-an
He ran so far awa-a-ay

Poor kid's not running on much sleep this morning.

He's been getting ready for his trumpet audition this weekend. It was supposed to be last Friday, and of course, he left the preparation until the last minute, which involved changing his audition piece at the Very Last Minute, and then deciding that it was probably good enough if he just schlepped through it. I gently reminded him about how hideously he'd performed at the Getting Into Honors Band auditions last spring (ie, he'd done NO preparation, and then hadn't made Honors Band, and spent nearly a week moping after school was out), and so this time, he really put some muscle into things. Fortunately, the band teacher ran out of time, and re-scheduled the Chair Auditions for today.

So it wasn't enough that he play one of his current band pieces. Nope. He had to scrounge around in our piano collection, snag a jazz book, and pick one of the moody blue numbers. No worries that the second phrase is at the extreme upper end of his abilities... or that he had to transpose it. He thought it sounded cool, and the sort of thing that would be good for an audition.

And that's what we've been listening to all weekend. And Ken's really stepped up to the plate and taken on the role of Trumpet Instructor (he'd seriously considered being a Band Teacher when he was finishing up high school - before he got all the physics/math scholarships). Good thing, because what I know about trumpets can be contained in the drop of spit that is shot out of the vent-hole when the trumpet's being cleaned.

So after all his diligent playing, when bedtime rolled around last night, and the trumpet was finally put away, he asked if he could just read a book in his bed for a bit before Lights Out. Sounded like a good idea, so Ken and I said sure.

And then we both thought the OTHER parent was going to go in and tuck Skip in.

I went downstairs and did 3 loads of laundry.

Ken went into his office, and worked on a backlog of Top Secret computer stuff.

And we both freaked out at 11:45 when we realized, as we were shutting the house down for the night, that Skip's light was still on. Poor bewildered kid. He had no idea.

And now he's dragging around on his way to school.

I felt so guilty about it that I handed him a Coke for breakfast. If I'd had a Starbucks Doubleshot, I would've handed him that instead, even though I know he would have turned his nose up at it.

I just hope he can wake up enough to rock his audition. It'd be a shame if he was disappointed this time, too.

And he ca-a-an
He can, his trumpet pla-a-ay
He's the ma-a-an
His jazz horn makes them swa-a-ay
Gotta get an A....