My warning to you: Don't buy your kids kazoos unless you have already made yourself an appointment at a Kazoo Relief Spa, or at the very least, invested in some excellent ear-plugs.
This is undoubtedly the MOST STUPID purchase I have ever made in my entire life. Oh my dear Lord, what was I thinking?
When I saw the kazoos in the dollar-bin section at Target I thought, "Hey! These will be fun! Peyton and Ella don't even know what a kazoo is! What kind of parent am I that my own kids haven't yet experienced the joy of a kazoo?" I'll tell you what kind of parent I was - a smart parent. And I'll tell you what kind of parent I became when I decided to invest two dollars for two kazoos for my kids - an idiot parent.
This is what I remember from childhood - kazoos make a funny noise and they are super fun. I remember marching all around the house blowing my kazoo like the leader of my very own invisible parade. I remember making impromptu kazoo bands with anyone else who happened to have a kazoo at the ready. Oh the joy!
Peyton has been wanting his own drum set. I've been putting that off because of the inevitable racket. By purchasing kazoos, I have personally invited a louder, more hideous noise into our peaceful home. What I realize now - kazoos are the perfect parent torture devise - even more effective than drums could possibly be.
So within five minutes of Peyton and Ella learning how the kazoos worked we had a new house rule: You can only make loud kazoo "music" in your room with the door closed. Only quiet, quiet, quiet, quiet kazoo sounds are allowed outside the bedroom. But somehow, the rule keeps getting broken and sweet little children are kazooing all over the place.
How did our own parents live through kazoos? What kind of superhuman auditory strength did they possess? As I raise my kids, I keep adding to the list of Why I Love My Mom. That she, too, had to suffer through all this kazoo nonsense definitely ranks up there at the top of the list.
Oh well, at least the kids are happy!