Doing her well-honed funky chicken dance, eight-year-old Julianna is flapping her wings at the radio blasting Beethoven’s First Piano Concerto.

Me: Honey… Do you have rabies? Or, are you conducting?

Isabella, the five-year-old (who is always happy to join a conversation to which she was never invited) is matter-of-fact: Daddy. She has rabies.

Me: She does?

Iz: Yeah. I don’t know what rabies is. Or, are.

Me: Really?

Iz (pointing her finger): But, THAT is not conducting. Even I know that… So, it must be rabies.

Julianna continues flailing her arms, deaf to the criticism.

Ironically, just like most conductors.

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