29th
November
2008
Son, I say, Son …
Or daughter, actually. I was demanding (I’m such an evil father) that Miss B actually practice her clarinet this week while she’s home from school. She played around a bit, and then when I told her she had another ten minutes to go, she sighed and began playing a solitary note.
She said it was an “E.” I don’t really know.
She played it loud and long, hoping I’d tell her to stop (and then she’d get to stop practicing). But I put my head down and ignored her until she got bored of the E and moved to a low C. I ran to the window to see if the fog was rolling in.
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