There are so many reasons why basements are wonderful, which is why I am heading this up as Chapter 1, because I am sure in the future there will be more installments of me expounding on the joys of having a dungeon of delight. Our basement is currently unfinished, but one good friend gave us a bunch of old carpet and padding to fill it with and another contributed a foosball (sp?) table, so there is a lot of fun and mess to be had down there. It is the noisy toy spot in our house, too. If we get something and it makes a lot of noise, it eventually gets relegated to the basement. Prime example would be the drum set William received for Christmas from his grandparents when he was 1. That’s right, 1 year old. Grundaddy is a rockin’ drummer, and his legacy will be passed on to our progeny, whether by choice or force. The set came complete with cymbals. Awesome. Sometimes the cymbals get “lost”, and by “lost” I mean that I hide them, but they are always found again eventually. Martha Claire and William were rocking out in the basement the other day, and while it was certainly muted, the beautiful and rhythmic sounds could be heard all over the house. I recorded a bit of their musical magic to show them when they become famous some day. Def Leppard, eat your heart out!
Legal disclaimer: all “musical” terms referenced above are used loosely at author’s discretion.
In case you were unable to discern William’s lyrics, he was counting from 1 to 18. We’re expecting a call from Sesame Street anyday now requesting an appearance.