Another way my mom is way smarter than I am

When I was in fourth grade, our class learned how to play flutophones.
It was a kind of rite-of-passage.
Each of my four siblings before me had learned to play the flutophone in fourth grade, and I had waited patiently for my turn.

At the time, we had the opportunity to purchase a new flutophone or simply use one we already had.
I begged for a new one.
But Mom said no.
She said the flutophone that each of my siblings used (after my oldest brother, no one got a new one) was perfectly good. Besides, no one was using it, so it would fall into my possession in the end.
Would that make me happy? Sure!

Well, now my youngest is in fourth grade.
He is learning to play the recorder... which is a classier-looking (but not classier-sounding) form of the flutophone.
His older brother had learned to play two years ago.
And just like then, it is now just as, um, challenging... to both student and parent.

But...
When my youngest begged me for a new recorder, I remembered back to when I was 8 years old, staring at a tooth-scraped, yellowing flutophone, and I said, "Sure, honey. They're only 8 dollars."
And I felt like a very benevolent mother.

Until this morning.
When the younger pulled out his recorder to practice.
And then invited his older brother to join him.

My mom was SO smart.

Only one flutophone in the house at a time meant only one child playing at a time.

It was never about the money or the recycling.
It was always about the sanity.

Mom, once again, I bow to you!