Music

Yesterday morning, when Ben and Tom came home from the gym, I had classical music playing on the radio to help me cook. Ben went straight to the portable stereo and stood in front of it, rocking back and forth in a solemn dance. Even the lure of a peanut butter sandwich was not enough to tear him away.

After his nap, Ben saw the stereo in the kitchen and requested more music, so I put in The Planets, by Holst. The first several songs were slow, so we skipped ahead to "Jupiter." As we listened, I pointed out when the music got quiet or loud, fast or slow, and I identified the instruments I could. Evidently, I make hand gestures when I talk about the instruments, because soon Ben pausing in his dancing to make drumming motions while saying "drum," or put his hands in front of his face to mime trumpets.

While we listened to the peaceful middle section, a feeling of deep joy came over me. I realized how amazing it was to be sitting next to my son, sharing with him a piece of music that I like.

These days, classical music is often marketed to parents as a means to an end--a way of making your child smarter (the research here is sketchy) or more cultured. But instead of being a way to get ahead, music can provide an opportunity to pause, to dance, to be outside yourself for just a moment.

Every time Ben sees the stereo now, he requests music. I'm grateful for the chance to dust of my classical CDs and order a few new ones--grateful for the chance to rediscover the pieces as he discovers them.