Piano Lessons

It’s no great secret that all of my friends are married and have started having children. My Facebook has turned into MomBlog Central with new posts by the stay-at-homes almost daily. Most of the time they read hurried, frazzled and with terrible grammar.

How can I judge them? I can’t even dog sit a puppy for a weekend without letting 73% of the responsibility fall to my roommates*; I can’t even imagine a child. 

However, sometimes these blogs give me little mental Post-Its for when I venture down Motherhood Highway.

Today, I read about a mom who had just bought a piano. She is an accomplished pianist and her husband is too,. For fun they hold their 1-year-old up to the keys and let him bang on the instrument. It was all fun and games and the blog was cute and actually well written and then I read this: “Little does he know how many hours he’s going to clock on here as soon as he learns his scales!”

I’m horrified*. I hope the child hates piano and breaks it. When I was little I had piano lessons and I hated them. In college that willful “you can’t make me read music if I can do it all by ear” streak was broken (kind of) and in piano skills I was years and years behind my peers but at least I was allowed to choose my activities as a child.

Perhaps archery didn’t suit me in any of my educational or career objectives, but it sure was fun.

*To be fair, I do have a job, and they don’t. So yes, they get the daytime bathroom breaks and walking duties. 

*Little do I know if this mom will force her child into lessons or insist he continue if he dislikes them, but I object to the notion that children can be moulded into anything you want them to be. That being said, I know nothing about kids, motherhood, child-rearing or how to change a diaper so my thoughts and comments on the subject could be 100% null and void and you can scorn me if you like.

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