“Huh?” mumbles his friend, straightening his Santa hat.
Tad’s Mom remembered what her friend said about fourteen-year-old teens: lazy, moody, disrespectful, and they smell! “Let’s go guys.”
Squinting in the spotlight, the boys begin to sing. “Hold that note,” mouths the music teacher, frowning when voices strain. Then sounds of cracking and croaking; leaping from note-to-note, in-and-out of tune. They struggle until the curtain falls. It was…brutal. It was puberty on center stage.
So, carry your earplugs for the 2018 Annual Christmas Concert to muffle the deep booming croak of bullfrogs: the Boys Eighth-Grade-Glee-Club.