Sometimes a question is just a question.

Today was a long day of laundry, graphic design work, business meetings, traffic, construction, rain and whatnot.

As I was getting out of my car tonight, the neighborhood kids kept shouting my name. Now, I’ve taught my own children to address adults with respect, so I didn’t shout back, just went about my business, and waited to hear what what would come next. Eventually, the youngest of them said, “Dina, can I be in your band?” I gathered my stuff, poked my head around the car and replied, “Can you be in my band? Sure. What instrument do you play?” He said, “Drums. I was the only one who wasn’t afraid to ask you. The rest of them hid [behind that tree].” I indulged the conversation for a little while and brought out my shiny new electric guitar for them to look at. It was a delightful six minutes or so. That was that.

Turns out not a single one of them plays an instrument.

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