Confessions

I have two confessions to make, both embarrassing to me as a parent. The first: Freestone has been working on his Twinkle Variations for two years. I know I'm not alone, and that other Suzuki parents can relate. He has passed off other songs, but he can't muster the attention to play all six variations in a row. There have been many lessons where Free bounced around the room like a human pinball or, alternately, sat slumped over his guitar like he'd had a double dose of valium. The norm is Freestone acting like a complete idiot and me sitting there with my face flaming, vowing to beat him up as soon as we get to the car. Every time I do the walk of shame to the car after a horrendous lesson, Freestone cheerfully skipping beside me as if he wasn't ruining my life, I decide to quit. Then there's some minor breakthrough and I keep going. Besides, I love my practicing time with Free, frustration notwithstanding. It's our thing.

Every day during practicing, I'll say something like, "Time for your Twinkle Variations." "Which Twinkle Variation do you want to play first?" "Let's play Twinkle Twinkle Little Star, the theme." You have no idea how many different games, techniques and methods we have used for learning the song. He has played the theme or one of the variations in no less than 4 or 5 recitals. Still, sometimes it's like he's never heard it before when he practices.

So about a month ago, and this is two years into listening to these songs every time we're in the car and playing them every day, Freestone was playing along on the theme during practicing. Suddenly, he stopped and said, "Ooooooooohhhhhhhhhhhhh, I get it! This song is Twinkle Twinkle Little Star!!" Light bulb moment.

I just looked at him, wondering how that fact had escaped him for so long, until he said, "Uh, am I finished?" I thought, "You are so finished." And I put the guitar away. Forever.

That was at about the same time Scott introduced video games to the kids. (This is my second confession.) He gave one to Freestone called Little Big Planet, and it was love at first sight. Free grabbed the controller and whizzed around the menu like he'd had years of experience. Now he's obsessed. All of his sentences start out, "In Little Big Planet, do you know what?..." One day, he sat in the car at the park for an hour crying because, "Outside is stupid! The park is stupid!" For me, that's just humiliating evidence of my utter and complete failure as a parent. I never thought it possible for two smart people to raise a kid who is addicted to video games. I pictured Free gaining two hundred pounds on snack foods and having to be hospitalized for dehydration from not being able to stop playing his game.

But, thanks to Little Big Planet, something happened to Freestone's concentration. It coagulated, like he drew it in from the four corners of the universe to help him get past a certain level of the game. And it translated to guitar. Suddenly, with the promise of Little Big Planet time, he can absolutely play all six variations in a row perfectly. He gets up in the morning and suggests practicing. He cooperates at his lessons. He finally has his official Twinkle Recital coming up. Hallelujah! All I have to do is trade 20 minutes of practicing for an hour of video game time, and Freestone will do whatever I ask of him. He gets it! Now I'm a big fan of video games for how they build concentration, give little boys (and girls) something to be passionate about, and mostly for the currency they give me when it comes to bribery. I may be wrong, but only time will tell. So far, soooooo good!