Don't underestimate those piano lessons

I know many of you groan at the thought of those childhood piano lessons that were forced upon you. I know many of you think "I wish I could play piano". And I know many of you from both camps who now send their kids (forced or not).

I had to beg for piano lessons. My family had a piano, so that wasn't the issue, it was because my dad had a *very* bad experience, a result of decent talent and too-high expectations. So when I was nine, I got to go. I loved it. I knew a bit going in, so I breezed through the first, well, few years. Then it got hard, and practice was required. I *hated* to practice. I did it, but I hated it.

Fast forward to High School, there are piano competitions, recitals, and I'm playing for the school jazz band and jazz combo (*not* so good at jazz, by the way, I got by but was a disaster at improv which, well, is a big part of jazz) and I get a scholarship to major in music at UNCG. Still hated to practice. Love to play, though.

Fast forward to today, and I can still play a little, but for the last 4 years I think it's been pretty limited to Disney tunes and nursery rhymes.

Last night, the husband re-arranged our living room. My piano came out of the corner, it is now the first thing your eye goes to when you enter the house. My friend Kristy would say that's the focus point, and apparently it is. I walked in the house after preschool drop-off, pulled out Bach and played. For 10 minutes. It's a start.

The kid will take piano if he wants to. It's a bit hard on him with two music majors for parents, and people ask us all the time what he will play. We've decided *if* he wants to play, he can play what he wants, and we will support him. But I hope he does it because it's fun and he likes it, not because he "should" or because we want him to. Only time will tell.