As a non-biased parent, I must inform the reader that my kids are geniuses. More so than their daddy, who struggled with the proper spelling of the plural of genius. Genii didn't look right, though I dug the double i's. Regardless, I can state with absolute certainty that the offspring are certifiably uber-smart.
Since their respective births, both my kids have displayed a love of music that both humbles me and makes me very proud. No better example of this than the occurrence last week as I took my oldest, Ninja Toddler, to the local music store. NT, as she's known, is two and a half years old.
The initial reasoning for the outing was for new thumb picks, though there is always a reason to go to the music store. I had lost my last orange thumb pick at a recent jamming session and I was eager to replace it with another. There are songs that I need to learn, after all. NT, who always enjoys a good outing, wanted to accompany me and I was thrilled to take her.
We enter the local store and her eyes immediately get as wide as saucers as she takes in the glorious site of hundreds of beautiful guitars just begging to be played. Holding her hand a bit firmer, because I know how she could decimate this entire collection within 30 seconds and because I have a good approximation of how much a destruction session such as that could potentially cost me, we stepped even deeper into temptation.
She was fascinated by the variety of guitars (and other instruments). At one point she knowingly pointed to a row of acoustic guitars (Alvarez's, Ibanez's, and Takamine's) and said with the kind of certainty only a child could have that "These Daddy's p-tars!" I had to smile. Yes, honey, these are like daddy's guitars. It was at that point I decided she needed an instrument, a real instrument not like the slew of toy instruments we are inundated with at home. She had been asking me for several days for a "p-tar" of her own. The guitar snob in me would not settle for a low rent, piece of crap for my princess. No, her first guitar will be playable, practical, and nice. Unfortunately she is too small for any of the conventional guitars. It was then that my eyes fell upon the ukuleles hanging on the wall. The soprano uke. Utter genius. I'll get her interested in stringed, fretted instruments via that Hawaiian staple the ukulele. It is small enough for her, but not too small for daddy to play on as well. I have to be able to teach her after all.
I suggested a ukulele to her and she immediately started jumping. I escorted her over to the wall and we began studying the $40 instruments with all the scrutiny of seasoned hagglers. "Not this one honey, the neck isn't as straight as this one." "No, this one isn't in tune." "No this one has a bump on the face that could result in ultimate unplayability." Years of musical instrument knowledge came flooding into me as I poured over every minute detail of quality of craftsmanship of these Chinese instrument makers. I graciously shared this knowledge and my thinking with NT, as well as my comments regarding how it could have been done better. I was in the zone. It was an impressive display, if I say so myself.
After several minutes of detailed examination, I triumphantly held aloft two $40 ukuleles that met my stringent standards. One was a natural toned number, and the other was a green monstrosity that, despite the color, was very well built. "OK, honey, which one do you like the best?" I asked with an air of certainty, knowing she will choose the natural toned uke since it is the one most like daddy's. She stood there in such a way that belied her three foot stature. She took them both in, pausing and considering the pros and cons of each (or so I like to think). Her little eyes went first to the natural toned, then to the green. I was certain she was already thinking of the number of hit songs she will write on the instrument hand-picked with love by her daddy. She raised her little right arm and I could see she had reached her decision. At that moment, there was no prouder daddy in the world.
Her arm aloft she said, "Want the blue one daddy!" The blue one? I did not pick out a blue one. The blue one's are swill. Surely she was mistaking the green one for blue, that happens right? But as I though this I knew it was not the case. NT is a genius in many things, and colors are her specialty. I glanced over at the two blue ones the store had. I was not impressed.
Daddy, who admittedly doesn't know much but does know his instruments, tried a different approach: reason. "Honey, these two are much better. This natural one has a straight neck, chords easy, and the frets are filed on the edges so you won't hurt your hand. The green one is equally as good but also sports the bonus feature of a dolphin shaped bridge." I tell myself that she at least considered my words, but I know that is not the truth. She stood firm in her decision. "The blue one, daddy."
My mind raced, why the blue one? Did she see something special contained within the press board, laminated spectacle? Did it speak to her in some unique way, as some instruments do, that cried out for her little fingers to play it? I finally asked, "why the blue one, honey?"
"It's my favorite color." (I was a bit crestfallen at this point. Those who know me know of my disdain for selecting instruments based purely on visual features. I thought I had adequately conveyed these notions to NT. Obviously I was a failure as a parent.) She then added, "and daddy's too!" That simple phrase moved me more than the site of all those guitars in the store. She chose it because it was her favorite color, a favorite color she shares with her daddy. She didn't care that the neck wasn't as straight as some of the others, or that the frets weren't filed down as well. She picked that one because it reminds her of her daddy and his favorite color.
Perhaps I'm reading too much into her selection of the blue uke. But I was touched enough that we left the store with her favorite blue uke. And new thumb picks...
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