Dana, Ryan, Ana and Ben came over for supper tonight. Ben fell asleep in Cole's crib and Ana and Cole seemed to be playing really well together in the downstairs t.v. room, so the grown-ups were enjoying some peaceful conversation in the dining room while they ate. Suddenly, we heard a sound. It was like a crash, but not quite. I jumped to my feet, recognizing the sound instantly. Ryan said, "What is it?!"
"The drums!" I said and ran down the stairs.
Somehow, with Cole's limited vocabulary but satisfactory persuasive skills and Ana's fine motor dexterity, Cole convinced Ana to open the door to the basement. The lights were still off. It was a cave of darkness.
By the time I found the pair, Ana was holding a drum stick in either hand and was drumming on the cymbals. Cole was standing beside the stool, thrumming on the bass drum with his foot on the pedal. In his arms, he held a small football, a DVD and a purple marker.
I said, "Guys, Ben is sleeping. We can't play the drums right now." That seemed like enough of an explanation for Ana, who set the drum sticks down delicately, pushed past me and turned to say, "We were just playin' some music."