She turns and asks me if he's been playing by himself. He has surprised her by his responsibility to practice on his own.
She tells me his cognitive development is sky rocketing. He is retaining what he learns and doesn't need reminders.
A week goes by and at his next lesson she gives him sheet music.
His first project piece.
I cringe, doubtful at his readiness.
I fret over wondering if he's been set up to fail.
Maybe he's not ready for this.
She knows the Boy's abilities, even more than he does.
The look on his face says it all. She has entrusted him with responsibility and he is thrilled to seize it. Unafraid.
He pecks out note-by-note and it takes seven days to play the song all the way through, each day playing one line at a time.
He practices twice a day now. And each day his fingers break the habits they created. Each day the song sounds more recognizable.
I am amazed.
There is nothing that I did to help the Boy play piano like he is doing now. He is doing this completely on his own, still note-by-note but smoother now.
Staccato is more jumpy. Chords are more solid.
The abilities packed inside this little Boy-Man astound me.
Seeing encourages me to step back even more.
I watch and listen.
Truth tells me that the Boy isn't mine entirely, he is His.