Rock Star

Last year when #1 turned nine, the only thing he wanted was a guitar and lessons. My brother is a genius on the thing and I think #1 just figured with a few lessons he would be, too. Well he got the guitar and I made him commit to one year of lessons before he could change his mind and quit. At first he practiced faithfully until the newness wore off and then it became a bit of a battle. I think the only thing that kept him going was that he really was pretty good and Guitar Teacher pumped him up quite a bit.
Because he was only nine, Guitar Teacher and I agreed to let him have the summer off and start up again in the fall. #1 was thrilled and to be honest, I was too. I was tired of hounding him.
School started and - being the great mom that I am - I forgot to call Guitar Teacher until the first of October. Guitar Teacher wasn't all too impressed and informed me that he was now full. Oops. By this time, #1's had a long enough break that he's actually missing it and is now thoroughly disgusted with me.

But alas! Guitar Teacher has another option. He teaches a "School of Rock" group session to kids interested in learning to play in a band and really thinks #1 would do well. He says he'll get back to me as soon as he has enough kids interested to form a band.
Short story long (as usual for me...) the first jam session was Tuesday night. #1 was so excited he couldn't relax his smile enough to hide his two huge front teeth all day. I dropped him off like all "cool" moms know to do and went home to make dinner for the rest of the tribe. About an hour into the jam session, Hubby starts making little comments about how the other kids in the band are probably wanna-be stoners with long hair and cigarette packs rolled in their sleeves and I start freaking out. I mean, how could I just agree to a ROCK BAND for my 10 year old without even screening the other members? What kind of music was he going to be playing? What kind of language would he hear? What kind of GROUPIES will start following him around??? AHHH!
On the verge of an all out panic attack, I jump in the car and race down to the studio to try and catch the last 15 minutes of the drug fest I'd just dropped my child off at. I sneak in the back and take a seat, carefully eyeing all of his bandmates... and... phew... deep breath. I know these kids. They're high school kids, but I know who they are. They're good kids. A girl even - and she's not a groupie. They're playing a Maroon 5 song that I love and to my amazement, #1 is keeping up with them all. My 10 year old is jamming right along with a couple of 17-year-olds. My eyes well up with pride and I try really hard not to smile an "uncool" mom smile that would embarrass the snot out of him in front of all these teenagers. And that's when it hits me. POOR #1! He's probably so intimidated playing with these older kids. He's probably sitting there cursing me for making him join. I want to cry as I think of how uncomfortable the last two hours must have been and I fight the urge to run up and grab him and take him home where he can feel like a big fish again.

As the session wraps up, Guitar Teacher comes over to talk to me. He tells me that #1 was a little rusty after his summer off (thank you for twisting the "bad mom knife" a little more) but that after the first hour or so, he kept right up. I glance over at #1 and catch him trying to suppress a smile and I decide I'll wait until we're alone to let him off the hook and tell him he can quit if he wants. "We'll just tell Guitar Teacher that you were uncomfortable with all those older kids," I think to myself.
As soon as we get to the car I ask #1 what he thought.
"IT WAS AWESOME!" he yells.
Huh? I SO do not know my own child very well.
"Really?" I ask.
He tells me all about the session and how they're learning songs to play at a New Year's Eve show with another young band and how he's even going to sing backup. SING??? My child? I dig a little deeper and ask him about the other kids being so much older and he tells me how cool they are and that they were really great to him. I push even harder and come right out and ask him if he's sure he wants to keep it up.

"Oh yeah. It was awesome."
And then the enthusiasm starts catching on and my eyes start welling up with pride again as I realize that #1's becoming his own little man. And a stud at that. Rock on kid!!