The Music Festival is just around the corner, and you know what that means!
That means your Momma gets to practice the piano to accompany you while you play your trumpet for the nice adjudicator!
And you know how much your Momma LOVES playing in the Music Festival!
Slightly less than a root canal.
This is why I grew up, my dears. Growing up was the pot of gold at the end of my childhood rainbow of Music Festivals.
I HATED the Music Festival!
Well, perhaps "hated" is too strong a word.
I feared the Music Festival... I went through bottles of "Dr. Fowler's Wild Strawberry" (guaranteed to calm sparrow sized butterflies in a nervous tum). It was the stress of the whole thing.
A total and complete victim of performance anxiety. That's me.
This is also the reason all of you have heard the story of the little figurine a million times. Remember? One year my Music Teacher forgot to add my application to the pile and somehow I was left off the Music Festival list. She felt so terrible that she gave me a pretty little porcelain figurine... and I felt SO guilty accepting it... because I was SO HAPPY that I didn't have to play in the Music Festival that year.
I still hate playing for the festival.
Trouble is, after your Momma grew up, she had you and your sister and your other sister and your brother.
And your Momma, bless her heart, expected you to learn an instrument and play in the school band.
See, your Momma forgot about the Band side of the music festival. She forgot that the good Band Teacher would encourage all you budding musicians to pick a song and play in the Festival.
And see, your Momma, besides being forgetful, is also cheap.
So, when it comes up, there's no way your Momma, being the thrifty soul that she is, would put out $60 or even $30 for an accompanist for your little flute or French horn or trumpet solos when she can do it herself.
And so, my dear, all I can say is
If you need your Momma, she'll be practicing the piano.