Ezra came home last Friday with a red plastic recorder that he had "bought" at the class store with points he had earned over the course of the week for good behavior. After wowing him with my jazzy rendition of "Hot Cross Buns," I handed it back to him and he began trying out various notes.
"I want to earn more money next week so I can get one for Levi, too," he said.
"Oh, Ezra," I began, touched at how thoughtful he was, though in the back of my mind I was also somewhat concerned about how much ibuprofen I would need to tolerate the sound of two little boys playing plastic recorders. "Isn't that so sw--"
"So they can be swords and we can fight with them!"
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