So Demon Baby wants to be a rock star. He plays on my guitar, and he plays with his brother's Guitar Hero guitar. Last night, he gave me a twenty minute performance. This entails him playing the Guitar Hero guitar, while he does an assortment of "na-na-naaaaaaaaa-na-na" guitar sounds. He moves his fingers expertly on the frets. He falls to his knees and shuts his eyes at intense moments. He does the various rock star tricks (bottom photo).
Yesterday I was exhausted. Ostensibly, I went into my room, to BED, to try to get rid of a raging headache. After twenty minutes of "na-na-naaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa-na" at the top of his lungs, and the acrobatics on my bed, I was even more tired (though bemused and in a better mood).
"Please, Demon Baby, just let Mama rest for a bit."
"I just have to do one more thing."
"SMASH the guitar on the stage!!"
At which, he leapt up and began pounding it, a la Pete Townsend, into the bed.
I realized he was more riveting to watch than many bands I've seen. He was pure rock fury. He was into it. He was lost in his rock 'n' roll world.
Which is both . . . amazing . . . and a little frightening.
Music lessons are in his future. I need to channel this energy.