My Little Redneck Rock Star

Genetics. The idea of genetics has always fascinated me. How we can pass traits, features, and behaviors from generation to generation. Behaviors are the part that scare me. Apparently, I used to stick my tongue out while working hard or focusing on something--Clinton if forever doing this. According to Rodney's mother, Rodney used to run into everything--previous posts explain Clinton's stance on this. My dad and grandmother tend to whistle while they work--Clinton, too, whistles while busying himself with whatever holds his attention. (We were amazed when we first heard him whistle this week, but of course he won't do it on command. Just in his own time--as it should be, I guess.)

Anyway, back to my point...genetics. I'm from small-town Texas. Rodney's from a hollow in West Virginia. There are things that lie deep within are genetic code. Things we have not admitted to ourselves in years. Things we thought we had buried with our perfect suburban house flanked by our picket fence, accented with rows of blooming tulips, accompanied by our pristine automobile, holding dreams of 2.5 children, and well protected by a presidential-like K-9.

Imagine my surprise when Clinton began revealing to me what must be written in his code...REDNECK! Gasp.

Okay, it wasn't a big surprise...and it was quite hilarious. Clinton found two wash tubs on mom's porch (yeah, exactly, who has those anymore?), he drug them out from under the table, across the patio, down onto the sidewalk, turned them over, placed them side by side, and used his "walking sticks" to begin beating them like drums. I was inside when this all began to unfold and was interrupted with the banging and clanging that is his drumming talent. Below are pictures of what I found...my son, with no shirt, drumming on wash tubs, with a face that looked as if it had just finished a UFC round. A proud moment for any mamma, really. :-)

I added in what I was sure were Clinton's thoughts.

This is how a pro does it. Watch and learn.

Sheer focus.

Perfect timing.

You have to feel it in your soul.

Now, rock it out.

What do you mean the neighbors are complaining about noise? Don't they know what talent sounds like?

Oh, well. The show must go on. Talent should not be hindered.

That was a great performance. Let's all clap for me.

Okay, one more time.

Aw, man. I rocked it too hard. Split a stick.