And then there was one.
One last recital post.
My piano man.
I have no problem driving him around town to lessons.
Or reminding him to practice.
Day after day.
Week in and week out.
'Cause the boy's got mad skills.
Mad skills, I tell you.
(In my very humble, completely unbiased, mother-of-this-my-first-born-child opinion.)
Now, if I could only get him to make his bed....