What can we get the Little Boom for his birthday?
Mused the Good Lady.
Before she could blink I had whipped off my jeans to expose my superhero pants underneath.
Worry not lass, Super Daddy is here. No child shall go without a thoughtful and meaningful present on my watch!
I hurrahed myself and looked off into the high corners of the room as if hearing a coven of cats squawling for dinner way off in the distance.
Daddy-Bear. He is only going to be 4, you won't get him one of those presents that you think is amazing which will be absolutely no use to him, will you? Like the bike you got him last year, or the remote control helicopter thing you got him when he was two?
The Good Lady sounded pained as if once again having to listen to me explaining that the vegetarian faggots I had served the other night had neither meat nor faggots in them.
I shook my head and disdained to answer her. After all, what can a Mother truly know of gifts for a young lad?
Some online shuffling later and it was done.
And so it was that some days later, The Moulin Roty, children's guitar arrived.
I hauled the box upstairs and unpacked it in the attic away from prying eyes. I was astounded. It was a thing of ravishing beauty.
My eye, ever keen for guitar splendour, caressed its curves. Truly, it was a master luthier that had fashioned this piece.
The inlaid fox seemed to leap from the finish as if scenting chicken skin in a bin.
The strings, gloriously metallic over a nylon core, glistened like morning dew.
But how would it play? Would it live up to everything I had hoped for. Would the notes that were spun from its strings bewitch the listener?
Could it possibly play as good as it looked?
Alas not. I think I could get more of a tune from a carrot that had been stuck up a Badgers arse..
TLDR - Bought a guitar online for my soon to be 4-year-old. It's shit.
