The big hit in santa’s looty was our boy’s electric guitar which just pipped at the post the junior punch bag and boxing glove set.
For a couple of weeks our boy sang of heartache (she left me and I’m sad) warbling with as much emotion as a 6 year old can muster. I couldn’t be sure he wasn’t talking about losing his iPad. He sang of revolution (we’re going to tear down the walls, the walls, the walls)as well as loss.
He even took it to bed with him one night. It lay on top of the covers by his side so it would be the first sight to greet him the next morning. Or maybe he could see that his dad had designs on it.
Can a guitar serve two master? When his son was asleep DH could be found tinkering with it himself. He looked up YouTube tutorials (“how difficult can it be”) talked to musos at work, and declared that he was going to get a guitar too. I helpfully suggested that he get another one of these which I know retail for £30 at JL.
Oh but no.DH did his research and found himself a very handsome – albeit diminutive – guitar. A parlor guitar he said.
Before he left for work on Friday DH was suspiciously interested in my plans for the day, specifically my movements between 10-1. I took delivery that morning.
Father and son unpacked the parcel last night. And to see our little man’s disappointment as his dad revealed the handsome instrument. Crushing. He’d sized it up in an instant. This was the superior guitar. It looked and played better than his. He hasn’t picked up his own guitar since. Though he can’t keep away from his dad’s.
So what have we here – Parlour guitar, a red Ferrari or the Grinch that stole Christmas