When I was a kid someone called the cops for me practicing the trumpet. I could have been famous, I could have been a contender at the Grammys, but instead I got a very different record.
When ours was about 3, as she would swing she’d sing, “Tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow, I love you, tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow, I love you.” The people across the lake would complain that she needed to learn more of the words. Thankfully, hubby was their boss.
Sometimes fate just hits us in the butt.