The Boy makes a song and dance of piano practice something he does every day without fail.
I try to think of it all as pre performance practice; the heightening of certain moments so the crowd is at a fever pitch of anticipation, rather than the frustration that I tend to feel because in the time it takes for him to kick up a fuss then calm down enough he could have done the whole practice bit and be doing something far more to his taste. However, I am told this is just a boy thing but I swear it is the girls who are meant to have histrionics! I obviously have a lot to learn.
There’s a bit of me that feels slightly envious of The Boy. There he is, allowed to play the piano, when I never got the opportunity and oh how I wish I could have done it. How I used to long to play; heck I even have dreams where I do and beautifully too.
Now I know you are going to think that I am living out my life through him, but honest, I never forced him to play the piano. In fact he asked me. He was only six.
When we have the big rows about practicing I always say fine if you don’t want to play it then don’t and Mummy will never have to pay for lessons (or force you to practice) again and every time he says no he will practice because, weird though it is, he actually likes it. I honestly give up!
Now please will someone tell me why he does this? If he likes it and wants to do it why does he not get the practicing bit? And is it really a boy thing?
He adores music and in the car we play all sorts, singing along as loudly as we can or else drumming out the beat on the car seats. Luckily for me Bog Boy sits behind me and his feet have yet to make contact. The Car bowls along the old Roman Road on the way to school swaying to the boombastic reverberations from within creating some of my most cherished memories.
On long journeys when I need them to calm, to behave, I find Radio Three and Classic FM a godsend. I don’t know why but it engenders sleep. Some may say because it is so boring others will look for a higher brow explanation – to be honest I am not bothered. It works, and for a hassled and frazzled mother facing a further 200 miles before the end of a journey that is good enough for me.
The Boy makes up lyrics and some are quite good but others well, let’s just say we’re still in the “bottom” stage and he usually dissolves into fits of giggles at his own wit following these utterances. It’s no use my remonstrating or calling for order. I usually just turn up the music slightly louder to drown out the heathens in the back.
At present we are listening to The Police, James Blunt, Dido, Snow Patrol, Abba and Robbie Williams. James is a BIG favourite especially when he says naughty words…You're Beautiful