I get a perverse pleasure thinking about my daughter, Brittany’s, daughter, Annie, taking piano lessons. Although she is not quite 6 years old, she started with her teacher 2 weeks ago…Wednesday mornings around 10 o’clock. In Minnesota. Annie played for me the other day her first 2 pieces that she’s learning. Because it was on speaker phone I also heard Brittany try to gently correct her and heard a little almost-6-years-old prideful retalliation from Annie of, “Mother, I know how to do this.”
After she was done and I gave Annie all the normal Grandma “oohs” and “aahs” of being greatly impressed, Brittany then got back on the phone. I think she heard me snickering, possibly snorting.
“Brittany,” I said. “Do you know what great joy I take in hearing this little interchange?”
After she was done and I gave Annie all the normal Grandma “oohs” and “aahs” of being greatly impressed, Brittany then got back on the phone. I think she heard me snickering, possibly snorting.
“Brittany,” I said. “Do you know what great joy I take in hearing this little interchange?”
“Really, why?” she wondered.
I then proceeded to remind her that in all the states we lived in and of all the music lessons I involved my kids with, saxophone for Eli, flute for Chelsea, and piano for all three of them, ONLY Brittany insisted, from a very young age that she really didn’t need to learn the notes. When I would sit next to her while she practiced and I’d try to explain what a low C or low E was, she’d get all indignant, huffy, insulted, impatient, and brush me off. She neither wanted nor required my help—thank you very much! Her teachers (there were several) all notified me that she didn’t know her notes. How can that be? I would ask. She’d been taking for years. They all pointed out that she’d learned to memorize what the teacher had played and try to copy it. I would write the names of the notes next to the letter. I bought flash cards and asked her to review them with me. I’d point to the notes and ask what they were. This always led to open rebellion. I candidly admit here that our little conversations on this subject were not benign and were often punctuated with loud voices. And I’d eventually slink away.
The idea of Brittany being such a little radical when it comes to learning the piano seems hard to believe in the present day. She is such a wonderful loving mother and wife who desires to be obedient to God and serve everyone she lives with and meets. But that old piano thing. It caused many years of frustration on my part back then. And now it makes me laugh.
Because it’s true…what goes around comes around…payback is heck…and Karma is a Beach. I can’t wait to hear more of Annie’s lessons. I rub my palms together, back and forth with glee in anticipation and let out a cackling howl. Cruella De Vil ain’t got nuttin’ on me!
Annie Girl, granddaughter of my heart---go get 'em, tiger!
4 comments:
HA!! LOVED this!! Yes it IS amusing isn't it, to see our children with their OWN children--who so often are little mimics of their parent!! Does a grandma's heart GOOD!! ; )
hehe too funny!
You are a total punk. Aren't mother's supposed to have sympathy and ever loving compassion for their children??? Let it be known that I've been working hard on the piano here and there for the last few weeks. I still can't learn those darn left hand notes. So frustrating. :)
That is so weird. That doesn't sound anything like Brittany :)
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