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My son, the ever so shy little monster boy, has the biggest imagination.  I am not certain how someone so afraid of letting someone see his shine can have so much shine.

The Boy loves the guitar.  He has loved the guitar since I bought him his first miniature one that was too large for him to hold and play at the same time.  So, he would sit in his room and prop it up on his legs as he strummed and sang.  Of course, the songs were made up and his pronunciation was perfect enough, at two, for only those who spent extensive time around him to understand.  Maybe that was a sign that he would be a rock star.  Because Lord knows I have no idea what most rock stars are saying.

Anyway, he wore that guitar into the ground.  The strings were replaced twice and now the poor thing has no strings and no knobs (I don’t know what they are called) to hold the strings on.  Yet, he still holds that guitar and sings his little made up songs.  Only now, at five, we can all understand him.  And, it certainly does not matter that what he is saying makes no sense at all because rock stars don’t have to make sense.  They just have to put on a show, right?

Well, a show he puts on.  But, the funniest part is that he doesn’t even care about having the guitar anymore.  He plays that air guitar like a true musician.  He’s bobbing and swaying with his mouth hanging wide open and his head keeping the music while his leg is in the air.  Then he lowers himself, bending his knees, really getting into the music like a true guitar rock star jamming a monster jam.

He is feeling his music.

Rocking to his own beat.

Letting his energy light up the entire room.

He is letting go.

I am feeling it.

And all I desperately want  is to be in his band.

(Take a look: Jamming)

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