M's New Game

Last night, C suggested I go into the living room to check out M's new game. They'd been on the piano for a while, so I suspected (correctly) that the game had something to do with music.

M has been learning to play from a very simple beginner's book full of easily recognizable traditional children's songs. She has been learning quite a bit about reading music from these books.

Her new game is to open up the book to a song she hasn't played before, place her right hand on the keys - thumb on C, I noticed - and then try to touch play the notes she reads off the page. And she did darned well! She'd almost always get the notes right, but she couldn't get the flow of the melody unless she already knew the song.

Why is this a game? Well, M thinks she's being tricky by having figured out the music reading thing. And I'm not about to spoil her sense of excitement. Afterall, she's well on her way into the basics just by way of self-teaching. For her, it HAS been a process of self-discovery.

So, I got in on her little secret too. Mom had been guidinig her on hand placement and note reading; I explained the rythym part of the notes. You know, how to count time for quarter notes, half notes, dotted half notes, etc.

You should have seen the look on her face after I demonstrated this to her. You'd have thought I gave her the keys to the candy store.

I expect that, over the next couple days, she'll integrate both the note and the meter, and be off and running.

I should point out explicitly that M's first official music lesson is tomorrow afternoon... all this so far has been driven by her own personal desire to play.

So, later that evening, as M was doing her usual litany of bedtime-delaying requests, the exchange went something like this:

"Time for bed, sweetheart."

"Can I play on the webkinz website?"

"No."

"Can I cuddle in your bed and watch TV with you."

"It's the convention tonight. No."

"Can I work on my homework?"

"No. You're already done. I know."

"Can I read my email to see if grandma sent anything?"

"No. You have school tomorrow. Time for bed."

"Can I play the piano?"

"Nnnnnn.... <pause> ... Yes. Five minutes. That's all. Then off to your bed, okay?"

M squeals and skitters off. The plinking of melodies ensues. C turns to me and says, conspiratorially, "She'll use that one again, you know."

"Yes, I know." I whisper back to her, "If I'm going to have a chink in my armor, why not have it be piano? Homework and piano."

"I was going to give her exactly the same answer." she whispered back.

M may have been playing melodies, but the chord of harmony and unity, clear and sweet, reverberated in the kitchen at that moment.