Speaking of strange tastes, Adelaide recently undertook her first foray into marching band. She plays percussion, so this is a fun experience for her; this is in stark contrast to my experience of being a flautist in marching band, where you are the musical equivalent to a Puritan-era child: there to be seen and not heard. Yes, yes, you can play the piccolo, and while this is fun for the two whole songs that feature piccolos, you must have a high tolerance for extremely high pitched sounds right up against your ear.
Because we knew Adelaide and the rest of the middle school band was going to be playing at last week's high school football game, we carried ourselves off to the field, where Derek watched his high school alma mater absolutely crush our home team throughout the first half, and I chatted with friends and contemplated the merits of getting a shirt that reads, "I'm just here for the marching band."
Half time came, we listened to Adelaide and the sixth graders play, then the upper-grade middle schoolers, then the high school marching band entered the field and strutted their stuff, with the now tiny-looking sixth graders watching in awe. As we were leaving, Adelaide talked about how excited she was for marching band, and how she couldn't wait to perform in high school, but the thing that she's most looking forward to are "those really cool hats!"
In case you're confused, no, our marching band has not departed from tradition to wear something new and different. She really does mean those bucket-looking hats with an abnormally large feather protruding from the top. Remember though that this is also the girl who wore a fuzzy cat ear headband more often than not all last summer and into the first month of school. Maybe she just likes having unusual things on her head? Either way I'll take it, as she also just showed me the "warm up" worksheet for this extra-curricular math club she wants to take part in, which she described as "hard but fun," and which I gazed at and had to suppress the urge to rip into tiny pieces. Anyone else have dormant feelings of rage stir at the mere sight of middle school math?
I guess this is what all Daughter is talking about when she proudly identifies herself as a nerd. Or is it a geek? All I can ever remember is that she is profoundly offended when I mix her up and refer to her as the wrong one.
The good part of all this nerdiness (or is it geekiness? I'm sorry, Daughter, I know this is making you very angry) is I can email her band memes and she finds them funny.