Youngest wants to start looking for a new guitar teacher as his last one retired. That's cool. I'm all for shelling out the money for music lessons.
"Sure," I agree. "Your playing is fantastic and I'd love to see you continue. Also, you need a coach to help you with your timing, you seem to have some difficulty staying on beat."
Okay. That's not really what I said. That's what a tactful mother would say. The kind and thoughtful words that left my mouth and went straight on to mangle Youngest's psyche were, "Sure, we can find another teacher. By the way, your rhythm sucks. You need to work on that."
"Your rhythm sucks." he adroitly replies. "Besides," he continues, because you know a teen can't let an insult go without trying to get the last word, "you don't know anything about music, you never played an instrument so who are you to judge?"
Good one. But his facts are woefully incorrect!
"Oh, yes I did play an instrument! I played saxophone in junior high! Which is why I know the fingerings for sax, clarinet and flute--they're all very similar. And that's also why whenever I eat red licorice I bite holes in it and play it like a recorder."
Youngest, who apparently has never witnessed my great talent, answered, " . . . >blink< . . . wha? I don't even know where to begin with that . . . "
"You know how Beautiful and Number One's friends all think you're the cool mom?"