This kid, he's got the kind of wild heart that might make your own stop if you didn't realize that he's actually kind of careful in the middle of his crazy."I want to play the drums," he said.
And we were like, FINALLY!!!
Kids are their own people. They aren't molded to the likings of a parent. It doesn't matter that we have a house full of instruments. We've got all these toys and not one child who has shown any interest. We've got that red accordion and mom's piano and four guitars and five harmonica's and percussion coming out the wazoo and a couple basses and amps and mics and everything we could possibly need to become the Von Trapp family of twenty-first century Normanby Township!
"I want to play the drums," he said. Out of the blue.
And the very next day I brought home the bongos we'd left at the church. Because we are going to take this interest, no matter how fleeting it may be, and feed it full of opportunity.
He's got some rhythm. I think he must have hidden it back behind his ears where I always forget to look. He just put on his head phones and turned on the old mp3 player and jammed along with whatever was playing.
"Can I play in your worship band?" he asked.
And I was like, WHO IS THIS KID and where has he been all my life?
"You can come to practice and play with us there - but not on Sunday mornings - not yet," I told him.
He got a chair and I gave him the djembe and basically told him to have at it!
My band - they've got wide accommodating hearts - and they let him play along without a complaint. He beat that drum until his hands hurt and I watched him from the other side of the stage as I led with the guitar and he was singing along and {mostly} staying on beat and it made me inexplicably happy to see him there, in the music, LOVING IT.
"How long 'til the next practice?" he asked at the end because he couldn't wait to try it again and I had to kiss him because it felt like a dream coming true.
And I hope this is the beginning of something real. That music becomes a language to him. That I will have to escape into the barn to ease my ears when he gets brave enough to tackle the big kit in the basement. That he will discover the inner rock star we were sure we formed him to be before he was even born. That he would create his own rhythm and move the beat of his own quirky drum.
In the words of the great {and swoon-worthy} Bon Jovi:
...Bang a drum, bang it loudly
Or as soft as you need
Bang a drum for yourself son
And a drum for me...
Liam always "marches to a different drummer"! Way to go Liam!
ReplyDeleteMy girls were singers. They sang every night while doing the dishes. They are actually really good together. We laugh about it now.
ReplyDeleteMy oldest played first chair flute in school. After moving to our new place she would practice in the barn. She would often hear another flute player in the distance. It was a young girl that lived a few places over and would practice on her back porch. You should have seen their faces light up when they finally met.
Many nights, the horses, the cows and the crickets went to sleep to some very fine music from the two of them.
Oh, I love that! I used to practice my guitar out in the field and daydream about some cowboy stumbling upon me. Ha! Never happened - I didn't really live in cowboy country. *Sigh*
DeleteI think my daughter's going to have some singing in her - she's still shy about it but I downloaded the Garage Band app on our ipad and found a recording she made of herself singing a song from Frozen - adorable!!! of course, the whole world is sick of hearing anything from that movie but I was just excited to listen to her repeat 'Let it go' over and over again!
I can remember singing with my sisters - not doing the dishes (we'd fight through that) but in the car. My poor parents!! We were quite a bit older before we learned to actually sing in the same key!