Our son, the baritone.

That's my boy.

He has earned his spot on varsity.

He's marching baritone now!

This August camp was especially brutal, 

considering our record-breaking heat wave.

But Ryan and the rest of the 

RHS band toughed it out.

The days (and our shadows) were long,

but our bari player stands tall.

At the end of August camp, Ryan had plenty of reason to be proud.

I, on the other hand, only managed to embarrass myself during the annual "show the folks how hard marching is" part of the evening:



AAAaaaarrrrggghhhhh! Awful, awful, awful. And I have to wait a whole year before I can redeem myself! Good thing Ryan's the one on the field and not Old Mom. (Video provided by my "friend," the band director.)

In spite of my attempts to sully our family's good name, we capped off the evening with ice cream.