Twice weekly I take Emmi to speech therapy. In the waiting at the same time, a man waits for his son. Everyday this man, who stands over six feet tall, sits slouched in a chair with music playing from his phone while he attempts to get twenty more minutes of sleep. Sometime he snores. Often I wonder what he is listening to as he snoozes away.
Today, his dreams must have taken a turn for the worst. He jerked awake, ripping the earphone plug from his phone, releasing music into the air.
Music. Sweet, sweet music.
Show tunes to be exact.
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4 comments:
No shit? LOL!
That is totally something that would happen to me....if you got a hold of my ipod, you would NEVER speak to me again. Seriously, never.
I just have to say that the way you present everyting, your trips to therapy sessions are a heck of a LOT more interesting than our twice (or three or four) weekly trips to our hospital!
Kristina
Allison, remember, you can completely blame those music choices on your kid. "Oh, I have that on my ipod for the kids." That is what I do.
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