Figures

I give my children a variety of musical experiences. They hear my students playing. They hear me playing throughout the day. I provide live dinner music when I practice instruments while they are eating supper (and taking baths.) Little Gus visits preschool music class each week. There are musical instruments for children available all over my house for them to play with. We listen to Wisconsin Public Radio every day at lunch. I let them play my piano. I sing to them.

And doesn't it just figure, that upon opening a nasty kid MP3 player that plays out of key children songs at a loud volume, (My revengeful mother sent it for his birthday) Little Gus would exhibit the most musical excitement of his life. He has turned into a cronic button pusher. All we hear are the first three words of each song that this little toy sings, because he can't resist pushing the button again, and again, and again. He wiggles his body. He waves his arms. He grins. He shrieks. He lavishes the control of those buttons and the obnoxious results that come forth, that is, when his button-pushing big sister isn't tapping the buttons herself.

Woe's me.

It's downright disheartening. If it didn't make the little guy so happy I'd be depressed.