I've been on vacation officially for only three days so far and it's such a great reminder to what I miss at the office every day.  I'm not just talking about watching ESPN, MLB, and Golf Network all day either.  It's alarming how much of your kid's lives you miss while working full-time.  Breaks like these are essential to remind the working parent how fleeting time can be.

On the other hand, there's only so much drumming a man can stand.  And I love drumming.  I love music.  I consider myself an appreciator of all kinds.  And if I've gone so far as to purchase a Blu-Ray title of a particular concert, you can bet the farm (or apartment, ranch-stlye house, ice-cave) I'm a pretty big fan of that particular artist.  But so help me...if I hear "Everyday I Have the Blues" by John Mayer one more time...I will...well...I'll probably just enjoy it and the live accompaniment from Miles.  If you haven't noticed from the previous posts, Miles is insanely into drumming.  He'll drum on (and break) trash cans, tin cans, pots, pans, desks, sofas, bathtubs, buckets, tummies, felines, parents, you name it.  And the 'drums' typically have to be set up in just-such-a-way.  God forbid you set it up incorrectly.  Miles will then ask for 'Everyday' on the TV.  (If you're ever interested in baby-sitting for us, this is excellent study-material).  Pop in the disc, play the song, and watch Miles go.  Lather.  Rinse.  Repeat.  This goes on.  For hours.  Miles knows all the members of the band (Steve Jordan, Pino Palladino), all the vamps and riffs, even the backstage conversation. (Sidebar: I'm relieved that he's into a rather mild John Mayer disc and not...say...a Rolling Stones documentary from '68 where Mick macks on a 17 year-old and Keith does whatever drug he was into that hour followed by a full-on blood transfusion.)

It could also be worse.  As Rachel says, I could be watching hours of Hannah Montana or The Wiggles.  Fair point, but after nine spins of "Wait Until Tomorrow" I think I'd have a hard time telling the difference.  The good news is that Miles has asked Santa for a real drum set.  Now, I know what you're thinking: why in the name of all things peaceful, would you Santa give a three-year-old a drum set?  Allow me to retort, A) I don't have to assemble the thing every time he wants to play.  Imagine assembling this four times a day...not to mention adjusting it, and fixing it every time he knocks a "snare" or "cymbal" off it's delcate perch.

B) It will sound better.  Now I don't know this for certain, but it HAS TO.  Real drumsticks on real drums must have a more pleasing sound than BBQ skewers or metal sticks on plastic tubs and kitchenware.  There's a damn good reason that you never saw Keith Moon using knitting needles on a Diaper Genie.

C) It'll be more cost-effective.  Santa doesn't buy or build cheap drum sets, but some "drums" in the house have made the ultimate sacrifice in the name of a great solo.  I don't have a formula, and I went to public school, but the cost of ownership has got to skew towards a real kit as opposed to more broken trash cans.  That teal one, in the picture above?  Cracked.  Three days old.  $36.  Currently held together with packing tape.

So Friday morning is the payoff.  I'm setting up a camera to catch the reaction of my young Phil Collins and you can be sure that I'll be sharing it here.

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