Pwned by my spawn

It was bound to happen. When you have a gifted, highly verbal, quirky 11 year old who loves nothing more than to take his mom down a peg, it was going to happen. I got pwned.

Last night I was practicing for my upcoming audition. As I’ve written in other places, the boys haven’t heard me practice my flute much, and thus aren’t familiar with my…um…style. Usually I blockade myself in the bedroom and slog away, but after dinner last night they played outside and I jumped at the chance to play in the living room. Vaulted ceilings = great acoustics.

Flute flute flute…going great. Piccolo piccolo piccolo…whew. Some sections need a little more wood-sheddin’, but for the most part ok. Sadly, the boys were back inside by the time I was hacking away at the needs more work sections. I…have an unfortunate tendency to be rather…vocal…when I err in my playing. (Translated: I cuss like a drunken sailor on shore leave when I screw up). Thing is, I barely recognize anymore that I do it, I’ve gotten so fast at it that it barely comes out as more than a grunt before I keep going, and I never ever ever do that outside of a practice room. Again, my sons do not know this, as they have never seen me work through a piece to performance. Hence, last night’s pwning.

Me: “Tootle teetle tootle @#$#& sigh tootle teetle $%#^^%$#&#%$!!!!!! deep breath tootle teetle tootle kick-its-ass.”

A: “Mom, you do know you can’t do that at the audition, right? It’s not in the music, so you can’t stop in the middle and swear.”

Me: <frozen> <stunned face> “Wha’?”

A: “You know, gotta keep going, right? Don’t show that you’ve made a mistake. You know this, you’ve told me about it!”

Me: <I have never wanted to flip off my child so badly in my life> “Uhhh…when did I say that? You’re not one of my students!”

A: “When I had my guitar out <one of three times total since he got it two Christmases ago, may I add>. C’mon mom, you can do better.”

And the little shit my sweet cherub pranced out of the room to take a shower.