I'm so glad it wasn't drums.

This past weekend Madeleine made her First Communion. [Yes, I'll get to that eventually. Her dress was white and gorgeous and made by my aunt.] Saying the Mass, coincidentally, was the same Irish priest who officiated at our wedding. This was the celebration of the sixty-fifth anniversary of his ordination.

He also, to start his homily, pulled out his harmonica and played a few tunes because that's been one of his hobbies since he was ten or so. Like I said, he's Irish. [No, I don't remember him doing that at any Mass before his retirement.]

What did my five-year-old son whisper to me?
"Mom, I want a harmonica."

I took him out that afternoon, to the dollar store [Gentle Reader, can you say "cheap plastic Chinese imports?"] and found a package with three of them. They work, sort of, but you have to blow really hard and they don't work at all when you inhale. Like I said, cheap plastic Chinese imports.

So Daddy finds a set of seven for a bargain. They arrived today via Bob the Mailman. I have a happy little boy in my living room right now. Now all I have to do is figure out how to play recognizable songs on the things, or at least help him to do so.