Monday, October 29, 2012
we got the beat
Yeah - that's right, my girly girl plays the drums. Despite the fact that she barely weighs 75 pounds, prefers ballet to baseball, loves lip gloss more than ice cream and was told by absolutely everyone she knows that she "looks like a flute player" (which I am loathe to admit is true) - my baby girl chose percussion.
Not only am I spared the torturous squeaks of a woodwind practicing in my basement, or the constant bleating of beginning brass player - but there's the added benefit of drummer swag. Girls look cool on the drums. As one of the only chicks in her section, Kooka feels powerful, unique, a bit like a 5th grade rock star. She's not lost in a sea of (and yes I counted) 79 sparkly, girl flutes.
Not that there is anything wrong with flutes, or clarinets or piccolos or any other instrument at all. But when I saw my somewhat reserved Goldilocks twirl her drumsticks a-la Tommy Lee, and flash her little sister the international hand symbol for "rock on dudes" - I knew it was her way of saying "no worries - I got this."
And she did. She was secure, confident in what she brought to the table. Willing to carry the beat, provide a backbone for her entire team.
But maybe she should save the hand gestures for something a bit more hardcore than Old McDonald.