So, an interesting thing happened last weekend. (Quick, don’t look at the date since my last post, it hasn’t been that horrific an amount of time!)
(I told you not to look!)
When we left the East Coast, Middle Daughter had to say goodbye to her cello, Rufus. It was an interesting relationship – she only just started playing last year, but by the time she said goodbye she was rather good at it. Perhaps not concert level, but still, for a then eleven year old who had just started playing, pretty darned good.
Then, for reasons I couldn’t begin to justify in a simple blog post, I picked up a ukulele last week. Two things quickly became evident – my fingers are too fat for the tiny frets on this particular model, and Youngest Daughter had a desperate desire to learn to use it.
So, as parents are wont to do, we went to a local music shop last weekend, just the wife and I. You’d think that the lack of children in our retinue would be enough to keep us under control, but no. It turns out this shop rents cellos – done. Then, while browsing introduction to uke books for the Youngest, I found myself drawn to the guitar. Maybe it was the fact that fret board is large enough for my meaty fingers to work, maybe it’s because beside the piano, there is no other instrument I enjoy more when it comes to music tastes.
You guessed it. Walked out of the shop with some ukulele guides, a rented cello, and a new guitar. Needless to say the house has been a wonderful, amazing cacophony since. Most of the dischordic notes are me, of course, while Middle Daughter practices and Youngest, in a 24 hour cram session, has learned to play the opening songs of both Adventure Time and Steven Universe (mostly).
And what about Eldest Daughter? She’s off baking us some treats, humming to herself as she gets ready for choir this week.