Three years ago, when Max first started asking for guitar lessons, I gave him a flat no. Two years ago, when he was still asking, I told him I'd think about it. Last year I made every attempt to hold him off with a steady stream of maybes. He is nothing if not persistent, so it was no great surprise when we discussed the schedule for the coming school year and he asked about taking guitar lessons. I have no opposition to music lessons. In fact, I'm really excited for him to learn to play the gorgeous guitar that I begged my parents for when I was in college, and that they bought for me one Christmas, and that I never learned how to strum a single chord on, and that has been idle in the closet for decades. The one that I never could get rid of because every time I look at it I make a resolution to someday take guitar lessons myself.
I digress.
Yes, I am all for music lessons. But, I wanted to make sure Max's hands were big enough and strong enough for him to be successful. I do believe the time has come. I delivered him to Mr. D., our good friend and an accomplished guitar player, for his first formal lesson today at 5:00. Judging from the fact that Max arrived downstairs ready to go, with his teeth brushed and wearing a clean shirt by 4:30, I was fairly certain he was psyched. And judging from the fact that he can hardly wait to show me every single thing he learned so that I can finally learn guitar myself, I think this may work out nicely for the both of us.
Rock on, Little Man.
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