The Spawn is considering trying out for something called Winter Guard, which I suspect is similar to what we called drill team back in the halcyon days of my youth. She is conflicted about it: worried that she may not pass the audition, but lured by the opportunity to leave the flags and staves of marching season behind for new apparatuses — particularly the sabre, which she described as “the coolest of the spinny-type objects.”

While she considers auditioning, I provide the following background music:

About profmondo

Dad, husband, mostly free individual, medievalist, writer, and drummer. "Gladly wolde he lerne and gladly teche."
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2 Responses to Meanwhile…

  1. Jerome says:

    I rather imagine that, given a good effort she will succeed. She is “the spawn” and therefore has the “aura of goodness” on her side. That should help. Here’s to the hope that she edges out the odd failed cheerleader or gay guy.

  2. Javahead says:

    “Odd failed cheerleader”? Isn’t that a tautology?

    Good luck to the Spawn. It does seem a bit of typecasting for the child of a medievalist to learn how to handle a sabre, though.

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