A valiant effort was made, watching the DVD, learning the various parts and tuning the instrument. Now it was time to master the first chord. Following a massively frustrating 20 minutes, there commenced nothing short of an adult tantrum, complete with rude hand gestures and the employment of the more colorful portions of the English language. The fit was capped off by expressing the desire to see this instrument of torture meet a sticky end and/or be able to feel the satisfaction that only dancing on it's ashes could possibly bring.
At the lunch table, one of the older boys asked how the guitar lesson went, having been in the basement during the tutorial. Fortunately, I was spared from having to provide a response.
"Oh, it goed badly," Logan answered.- 7 July 2012
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