At first I thought it was an extreme case of flatulence. But no, the sound continued- and in some cases louder than the one before- nature wouldn’t allow such things…
Then I thought perhaps someone was moving furniture on the floor above….
Alas- no. It was a trombone. And an aspiring trombonist. Slowly the sounds were less aberrations of nature and became ever so slightly more definite- though I would not go so far as to say musical. My sweet boy came down, imitating in rhythm, if not in tone the song his idol, his father, had demonstrated for him on the instrument. His cheeks puffed out, the trombone glinting on his shoulder dwarfing his frame as his arms extended to their utmost to illicit a sound from the thing. God bless his little self…
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