My boy, my boy, my boy

I find it interesting how he sits in the dark and practices his piano. I have tried turning the lights on in the livingroom, but he only turns them off again. At other times when it is daylight outside, he plays with his eyes closed. This is a stark contrast to myself that requires every bit of eyeball energy to transform the black dots on paper to music, while he just motors along. Lucky him.

In other things from the boys life... he prepared his speech the other night. Which really meant that he sat, and thought, and wrote. It all fell out onto the paper, where he then refused to read any part of it, for days. Finally he agreed to deliver his world of words in his own fashion. Now this is where the story turns. I have a friend, a very old friend, a wise old friend in fact.... who once upon a time told me that I had a Jim Carry Junior on my hands. I did think that my boy was a bit of a wise cracker, as all good and loving parents do...but this boy of mine is a smudge above some with the humour factor. So, in speaking of speeches, I sat back last night to listen to the delivery of his speech " The Evolution of Video Games"... which on any given day sounds like "oh brother, not another one...", but what fell out of his mouth was nothing short of a very well rehearsed stage show. As I sat and watched him perform, I decided that this was an act, with words attached to make it a speech. It left me howling in laughter, and speechless.