|Calvin behind the wheel at Eastview|
|Mary's in charge of dinner with mini-muffin tuna melts|
I've been thinking about how they don't remember a time when they didn't play piano. Since they were babies the piano kids have been coming to the house, back when it was Stefanie and Jackie and Cassy and the gang. This is what we do.
One of my piano babes, a new little three-year-old had a little accident upon waking up from his nap before his lesson this week. We stuck him in a pair of Mary's denim shorts which functioned as trousers for him. He was sad about the situation, but once dry he hopped up to the piano and played a full lesson. In one short month he has gone from being too shy to speak to me, to letting me borrow his hand and actually lift him up to the adjustable chair. Last night at group he whispered in my ear the secret song that he wanted for the body staff game. Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star. Big progress. Short time.
One of the medium kids, seven is now medium in my studio, did some extra theory pages this week. I said to Matthew something like, wow, you must really love theory. His response, and I quote, "yeah, who doesn't love theory." I nodded with game face and snuck a wink to his mother.
Dr. Suzuki's words, ability development from age zero mean that these kids are learning music as part of their language. I'm forever surprised when we get to toward the end of Piano Level One and the child is playing all 18 pieces and adding echos and paying attention to their tone and hand position. Then after lesson they give me a little card or drawing and I'm reminded that they are as yet unable to print their name.
The correlation continues through adolescence. Here is Mary playing Chopin Mazurkas and Grieg Lyric pieces and yet, working toward cooking a tuna dinner for us. Ability leads to ability.
The coup de gras? Driving. Here's a kid playing Beethoven and Liszt and yet, just like every kid at this point, is a complete beginner behind the wheel. I'm amazed. He's doing fine. I think I'm doing fine. I THINK I'm doing fine. Teaching driving is not like teaching piano, and I guess Bill and I are complete beginners at driver's ed. When the Italian Concerto veers off course nobodies mailbox gets taken out. To say the least.
This from the gal who drove her grandpa's truck through the back of the barn at age 14.
Newborns in the studio are turning into toddlers. When it's someone else's child it goes so fast. When it's you sleep deprived it feels like every stage lasts forever.
So, I'm trying to see that big picture. I've loved every stage with my kids and never looked back, though I do enjoy the photos. . .when they were little and so exhausting, I used to take the night off and drive to Linda's and finally have a child free moment with gals. What did I do? Work on photo albums of the kids. They were so much easier in pictures.
From nursing to watching them every minute to make sure they don't kill themselves, to actually being able to leave them in the house alone, to this next stage, in a few months, Calvin being able to leave the house without US. . .
It's all a little scary and exciting and wonderful and overwhelming.
Family, friends, faith, music.
Ability leads to ability and we just hang on for the short ride.