Months before Cj was born his Dad and I would talk which musical instrument was he going to play while an earphone was attached to my belly; its mate plugged in my ear playing classical music. My choice was saxophone. Ex-hubster preferred the violin. During our latest family reunion, I noticed that several of Cj’s Philippine cousins play either the violin and trumpet. No one plays the saxophone that’s why I want it for Cj. I’ll skip our boring discussion and recall that we only ended up arguing over which instrument should Cj take lessons in first. Silly. Sometimes I reckon that if we couldn’t settle on Cj either blowing or fiddling then maybe we should have him strum the ukelele.
I used to be a piano accompanist, teach piano, organize and play in piano recitals. Those little musical adventures were fairly successful. But when it came to teaching my own son, I didn’t know how. When I played, he would scream, Mozart would follow suit and then the two of them would fall into what seemed like a drunken sleep.
Three years later I let him loose while we were waiting for the party to begin after his cousin’s solo piano recital in nearby Ekamai. This time he was convinced that fingers were used on the keys and not toes.
No formal lesson has ever been started yet. He’s into movies, computer games and scribbling on every surface that crosses his path. With regards to vocals, the only person he likes listening to is his grandma. If I sang, he’d beg me to stop. The only tunes he doesn’t mind me belting are lullabies. Sometimes when I’m rushing to do chores, I’d sing him the lullaby that I composed especially for Mozart and he would grope around the bed for his toys and threaten to get up. Why didn’t anybody tell me a mother’s job was this demanding huh!