Cross-eyed Mary?

Is anything more wonderful than watching your child develop a new skill? Remember her first steps? The first time he said Da Da? The first tiny scratchings of a pencil that almost resembled letters of the alphabet? Ah, what fun to watch a young mind develop!

Then there is the greatest joy of all: listening as your very bright child plays her first note on her newly chosen instrument. It’s an “F,” I think. My daughter has chosen the flute, and, as her teacher recommends, she practices that flute for 30 minutes – everyday. And for 30 minutes – everyday – for the first week we heard “F.” We heard F in short bursts like a car alarm going off, F in longer trills like a smoke detector, and all other combinations of F. Don’t get me wrong, I like F. It’s a nice note. One of eight others in a scale. But F, F, F, F, F, F for 30 minutes is evocative of Chinese water torture. Ah, well, the price parents pay for budding genius. Did the father of Jethro Tull's flute player go through this?

My consolation: At least she didn’t choose the violin.

Coming Soon: D flat