On the way to the library yesterday, the kids turned up the tunes. Nope. Not the radio. Will donned his shiny blue sunglasses and held his fist up for a mic.
Will: Here, Ben, you take the air guitar. Maddie, you play drums -- play rat-a-tat-tat-tat rat-a-tat-tat-tat. Jon, you can do the keyboard.
Jon: No. I'ant guitar!
Will: Ok. Ben, you have bass. Let Jon have the guitar. I'm going to sing. Loud. . . . I can't sing any longer. Ohhh. I can't sing any longer. Ohhh. I can't sing. . . Ben! You're holding the air guitar backward. Do it this way. Ok. Good. Hey, Maddie, I can't hear you. . . . Ok, guys. Let's try it from the top. One. Two. One. Two. Three. Four. Wawawa. I can't sing any longer. Ohhh. I can't sing any longer. Ohhh. I can't sing any longer. Ohhh. I can't sing any longer. Ohhh. Gimme some more sound! Hit it! I can't sing any longer. Ohhh. I can't sing any longer. Ohhh.
The volume continued to rise. Mostly from Will as he struggled to be heard over the road noise. In the mirror, Maddie watched out the window while she twirled her pig-tail. Jon kept a great beat on his lap-drum, and Ben kept right on playing the air guitar backwards with no sound. When I stopped at a red light I realized how loud they (or rather HE) were.
Me: You guys need to turn the volume down please.
Will: We can't. We're a band, not a radio.
Me: You will turn the noise down or I'll make you turn it off.
Will: The music won't stop while there is still an air guitar. We will be quiet when you break the air guitar. I can't sing any longer. Ohhh. I can't sing any longer. Ohhh.
Now I need some ideas on how to break the air guitar or how to teach more lyrics. . .
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