I have a nearly-7 yr old #3 son that has become obcessed with bagpipes. He's been that way since he was three. It's quite inexplicable. There's nothing openly Scottish about our family. Our name is not Scottish. We don't engage in any openly Scottish activities outside of regular dosings of Scotch (adults only). It just hasn't made sense. It's like UFO's landed and dropped us off a little Scotsman.

For several months now,#3 has been taking bagpipe lessons from a neighbor. He's doing well. If he was a little larger he'd soon be ready for a set of highland pipes. As it is, he comes home and practices for hours with his little beginner's chanter. It sounds like a flock of geese being killed slowly.

Saturday Night was the big night for the Caledonian Society. It was their annual Tartan Day celebration. His teacher plays in the Caledonian Pipe and Drum Corps, so we decided to go as a family. #3 is so far into this thing, I decided we'd better put our best feet forward. Everyone looked sharp and was on their best behavior.

This Caledonian Society thing was rather low-key affair by my standards. I'm a Cincinnati Krauthead, so I'm used to seeing a bunch of beer-crazed Germans running around. The Scots were fairly sedate-- lots of men in kilts, a lot of plaid, lot of meat pies, a scotch tasting in the back room, etc. That seemed odd to me. To me, Scotsmen are the Klingons of Europe-- lots of heavy blood letting, lots of knives and swords, and a language that sounds like you've got a bone stuck in your throat. That's not a dig, by the way-- I like that sort of stuff. You can count me out when it's time to honor my German heritage-- leather shorts and the chicken dance just don't cut it for me, and I prefer swilling scotch to beer.

We were sitting at a table, watching the festivities, when #3 struck up a conversation with a kilted middle-aged couple behind us. I think the man was some mucky-muck in the Caledonians. I kept looking over, and admiring the way my little son was endering himself to the folks. The wife and my son were talking for the longest time.

The festivities were still cranking up. They'd brought a bunch of duffers out to dance, and the DJ was playing modern bagpipe-infused rock/folk. All of a sudden, I saw the wife grab herself an lean over and whisper to her husband. Both started laughing so hard, they couldn't hold it together. My wife was closer to them than I was. I saw her get curious and ask the other woman what was so funny. Then I saw her clutch herself and start wretching with shock and hilarity. At this point I decide that I need to get involved, and leaned over to ask what is going on.

About 5 minutes later, I stop laughing. I've laughed so hard, I've brought on an asthma attack. My glasses have fallen off. I'm spent. What has gotten me so over-wrought?

"So what's going on?" I had asked my wife.

"She asked him how he enjoyed the bagpipes." she answered.

"Yeah, and???" I asked.

"He said he liked them a lot. He said, 'Bagpipes make my balls itch!!!'"

. . .when it had subsided a bit, I had to admit: they kind of make mine do to.

Yep, my son is a Scotsman. Here I thought it was always the wool in the kilt.