Hunter is not interested in sports, except for NASCAR, so in trying to find something to "involve" him in, we all settled on drums. Scott's friend, Scott, gives drum lessons, so we got Hunter hooked up and into to lessons. There is a drum kit in Hunter's closet. Clothes on one side, drums everywhere else.
But even though he wants to play, the actual lessons and subsequent practices are lacking in the interest department. He'll fuss and groan through a lesson at which time Mr. Scott will put his sticks down and tell Hunter that since he seems to "know it all" anyway, he (Mr. Scott) doesn't need to be there. And practice at home tends to be "forgotten" due to a "bad memory". Uh huh. This is the child who will recite verbatim things that were said years ago. Bad memory my foot.
So, today, Hunter went to do his practice. Five minutes later he emerges telling me he did his practice. No, that was just the warm up. I sent him back in for at least 10 more minutes and it was on the dot that he came back out telling me he was done. Scott just freaked him out telling him that they were going to go back in for 45 more minutes. Now keep in mind, Scott used to sit with his guitar in his younger days for HOURS on end practicing. So 45 minutes is nothing to him. But Hunter is nonetheless freaked!
Time will tell, of course, whether we have a drummer or not in the house. It would be cool. The we'd have a family band!
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