More Cowbell! It was such an iconic Saturday Night Live sketch that it has entered Western culture, with people uttering the phrase, not even having seen the bit. Right now, Tuesday evening, there is a cowbell being rocked at full volume in my garage. J is drumming. The garage door is down, iPod (my iPod I might add) is earbudded into his auditory canals and he is jammin—a little crash cymbal, a steady kick drum, but then a healthy dose of cowbell.
In our world, as with Ferrell and the SNL crew, the cowbell-ist finds such joy, completion and settledness in knockin’ that percussive oddity. J is thriving now. That’s due in large part to the fact that tonight he took his last, step down, dose of a medicine he’s needed for behavior control.
But he needs it no more.
And the raw energy, joy, inquisitiveness, thoughtful recollection....so much has sprung up in and out of him as he’s been being freed up from the med. Again, the drug helped for a season....but it came at a price. As we’ve stepped down incrementally with the doctor’s help, a very alive, joking, even overly energized dude has emerged. And with it, his penchant for drumming every night, often well into Daddy’s bedtime, smashing the crash and clicking the ride and utterly crackin’ the ol’ cowbell.
Tomorrow I’ll be up at 5am...I have to get on the road early to see a few customers first thing. I can already tell, here at 9:45pm, I’ll probably be tired tomorrow from staying up so late tonight. Because, again, he’s still keeping time on the 5 piece. It’s alright though. It wasn’t so long ago meds fully controlled his day and night. But no longer. Now it’s just up to the iPod running out of charge or all the drum sticks breaking-whichever comes first. And I’m good with that.
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