Last night my daughter had her first drum lesson. We weren't too sure what to expect and set all expectations on low because after all she is the fickle five. She often expressed interest in taking classes and is a great lover of music so we thought we'd give it at least a one lesson try. Heck, might as well try it out somewhere that is not my home.
The girl has always loved music. I played it often when she was a baby to stave off my boredom and stimulate her brain. We would dance around for long stretches and making her laugh kept me somewhat sane. Her musical tastes have evolved into her own and these days it ranges from ABBA to Bieber to Gaga to Yeah Yeah Yeahs and everything in between. She even has been known to break out some ACDC when the mood calls for it. That girl is most definitely complex.
Some nights her musical selections melt my heart with requests for The Immigrant Song or Superstar before bedtime. Listening to her decipher lyrics reminds me of being a kid glued to the stereo and pouring over lyric sheets.
Anyway. The lesson went well and after it was done her teacher selected a set of sticks to help her practice her rhythms on a pillow at home. Turns out the best sticks for her hands are from the Phil Collins collection. Trust me when I say that those drum sticks are the only things from any Phil Collins collection that will cross the threshold of my home. *cue mass exodus of insulted Phil Collins fans*
The drum teacher handed her the sticks on the way out and the wide look in her eyes when she whispered to me 'can I keep these?' washed away any doubt that she had fun.
On the walk home she started to hit anything that produced a noise while she richotiated around in that typical 5 yo pinball fasjion. As she dragged the sticks along a fence while dancing to the song in her head, she became a classic music montage from an 80s film.
And it was beautiful.