One of my boys plays drums. Tonight’s drum lesson was like the rest that I’ve sat through for the last year and two months. Lots of hard-driving beats (not beets) and use of food labels. Yep, food labels. Here’s a taste: My son, tapping out a rhythm with his drumsticks (not chicken) while his instructor ( professional jazz drummer) chants, “Cher-ry pie and ap-ple pie.” Neither appear to find this method of communication the least bit odd. I continue to snack on my peanut M & M’s and smile quietly.