Last Christmas my boss and friend gave me her boom box. We were between offices, getting rid of things we didn’t want or need or used, so she gave it to me to give to the kids. It sat in our house for nearly a year. No one had any interest in it.
When Jory’s room was finished, my mom put the boom box on his dresser. Within the last month, Jory has gone boom box crazy. He carries it from room to room and plugs it up. Who knew he was old enough to plug certain things up by himself?
He’s so proud of himself.
“Mommy, come here, your song is on.”
I’ve discovered almost every song that comes on the radio is my song.
“Mommy, come dance with us.”
“Rowan, Baby, come listen to the music.”
If he starts carrying that boom box on his shoulder, I’m going to let him grow an afro and buy him a pair of skates.
Who knew the joy one used boom box could bring to a six-year-old boy.
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