A post-script to yesterday's story

Last night was Concerto Night at our high school. The annual Solo and Ensemble contest is coming up on Saturday, so it's nice for the musicians to have the opportunity to perform in front of a friendly audience.

James and I were sneaking in late, as middle-son John was kind enough to let us know exactly what time the Winter Percussion Ensemble, of which he's a member, would perform.

In the hallway, another later-arrival was right behind us.

"Hi!"

James's head snapped around. He recognized that voice.

"Will!"

The look of adoration on my littlest son's face was enough to make Will laugh.

We walked into the auditorium just before his daughter Leah performed with a percussion group.

Will wisely sat across the aisle from us. And one row back.

I glanced over at James, who chose the aisle seat.

He wasn't watching the stage. His eyes were locked on Will's face. You could count every baby tooth in his six-year-old grin.

Remember Eddie the dog from TV's Frasier? That's all I could think of; I could see Will shaking with laughter.

"James," I whispered. "Would you like to go sit with Will?"

I didn't have to ask twice. My son dashed across the aisle and plopped down next to his hero.

It was a relief that when Leah's group performed their number, James sat up and paid attention to the musicians. But as soon as it was over, he was deep in conversation with Will again; their discussion was punctuated regularly with bursts of giggles.

Both of them.