The other day, I was changing the PiperCub while his tunes (a Winnie-the-Pooh mobile) were playing. He was in a happy mood, going da-da-da. Peaceful domestic scene.
Then something clicked in my head. He wasn’t just randomly da-da-da-ing. He was keeping in time with the tune on the mobile. Not humming the tune, but matching the beat.
Filed it away in my head as a “hum, that’s a bit odd.”
Today, I was carrying him down stairs for brekkie, and he was da-da-da-ing again. And I suddenly realised he was doing it in time with my feet on the stairs (wooden, no carpet, so there’s a definite sound from the footfalls).
Oh well, we’ve got some time to prepare, and we can always spray-foam a room in the basement for the drum kit…
That’s adorable. When my 22 year old son was a baby, he used to bang on this metal cart at the baby sitter’s house. Babysitter’s husband said “He’s either going to be a drummer or a politician.” Funny thing is, he is a musician of sorts and can drum, though is musical instrument of choice is the guitar.
Does he have any tattoos yet? That would be another clue.
Plus he’s unemployed; I’ve heard that’s another indicator. 
I sense much rock band in this young one’s future.
Yeah, and he’s also hanging with a bunch of layabouts his own age, and they talk in grunts to each other that no adult can follow. Doesn’t look good. 
Lucky. At least you have time to prepare. It got sprung on me late last spring that both my rising fifth graders wanted to take strings class this year. One is playing violin, and the other is playing cello. My house will sound like it’s filled with dying, tortured cats for a while. 
Awwwwww yeah. Welcome little one.
(if you need further proof: see if he can read music)
Considering my own musical hobby, a drummer wouldn’t be that unwelcome!