I have this teeny tiny, minuscule, microscopic, Lilliputian attachment to the Beatles Rock Band — barely discernible, like a hint of soft cologne lingering in the air. So it takes MUCH begging, pleading, bribery, and out-and-out coercion to get me to play it.
Hah! my husband says in the background. It takes much coercion to get you to STOP playing!!
Oh, be quiet. Mind your own business, I bark at him.
Ahem. Where was I before I was so rudely interrupted? Oh yes. The Beatles Rock Band.
On Christmas Eve, most of our company left by 9:00 p.m. Just my sister and my mother were left. We looked at each other wondering what to do next. Mom hinted that maybe they ought to go home.
Teresa, wanna play Rock Band? I asked.
She gave me a big Garfield grin. Of course!
I played the drums (of course). Craig and Teresa played the guitars. Mom sat by me watching intently. After several songs, I asked her if she wanted to play the drums.
No. She wrinkled her nose. But I WILL play the guitar!
Now I must tell you that my mother is eighty-three years old. She used to be five feet three inches tall but with age I think she probably isn’t much over five feet tall. She has beautiful pure white hair. The quintessential grandma.
Ten o’clock rolled around. Guess we’d better go, she said. But let’s play just one more song.
After that song, she wanted to play just one more song. And then just one more. And one more.
We played until eleven thirty!! (Now I know where I get my attachment to Rock Band.)
Last night (Christmas night), we played for two hours. By the time she went home, Mom had high scores on medium difficult songs.
Amazing! Simply amazing.
Oh my goodness! THAT I want to see. I have the best grandma ever. We’ll have to play when I’m there for Women’s Conference, or something.
Yes, yes, yes!!! You are ALWAYS welcome to come play Rock Band at my house with Grandma!