Max got in some piano practice with Gramps at my godmother's house. He wanted to master a little Chopin, to amaze and delight his father when he returned. He reimagines Chopin's work quite ingeniously.
Back at the Fry family homestead, Max was in a more ragtime-esque kind of mood. He and Grandpa boogie-woogied with a spirit that the world has never known. With so many artistic outlets, and being a Davis child to boot, Max cannot help but be a renaissance baby of epic proportions.
1 comment:
he's already surpassed uncle Mike's ability by using more than 2 fingers
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