If you didn’t have a real good imagination you’d probably think those noises were the sounds of some kid blowing a horn for the first time, but I knew better than that. (from Bud, Not Buddy by Christopher Paul Curtis)
Several months ago my sister and I were sitting in my parents’ living room talking while my two-year-old played on the piano. He was just playing and singing his little heart out and I thought it was precious. When he stopped and looked back over his shoulder at us, I broke into applause and said, “What a beautiful song! That was so good, Benjamin! Play some more music for Mommy.” When I looked back at my sister she had this completely baffled look on her face, like she couldn’t imagine that we were hearing the same “music” come from that piano. I mean, of course it’s not an actual recognizable song that he’s playing and singing, but I was genuinely impressed that at age two he plays with his fingertips instead of banging the keys with his palm. And I thought it was really beautiful the way he sang with that sweet little voice his nonsense lyrics–I’m sure they made sense to him. But Whitney couldn’t hear it.
Aha, but a couple of weeks ago, when her 9-month-old picked up a recorder and started blowing into it, you never saw a woman grab a video camera so fast in your life!
So now Benjamin and Ryder are a little toddler band, entertaining us on the drums, the piano, the recorder, and the hammer dulcimer (an unusual bluegrass instrument that my mom plays and Benjamin is now obsessed with) and we all applaud wildly whenever they pause in their spontaneous compositions. If someone happens by the house in the middle of one of these concerts, they might think, “What is all that racket?!” But we know better.