Gwendolyn and I have a new morning routine. When she decides she's had enough time in the crib--these days before the sun's up--I go and fetch her and we head downstairs so that her mother can sleep a little longer. She's usually not hungry right away, but she won't be left alone, either. So we sit down on the living room floor and I get out the guitar.
Unlike her response to other toys, when I start strumming she makes a beeline--all right, it's more of a waddling-army-crawl-line--for my lap. Her fingers immediately start reaching for the strings.
She's not quite at the level of Joe Satriani yet. Her touch on the strings resembles more a vise-grip. Once she has a firm hold on the fretboard (often complemented by a firm bite), she looks up at me quizzically, as if wondering why the music stopped. Eventually she lets go, then I strum some more, and she clamps on again. Not the best circumstances for improving my technique; then again, I think her peals of joy are finer music than I'm producing, anyway.
And who knows? Perhaps somewhere deep in that baby-brain we're inspiring a future garage band!
~ emrys
No comments:
Post a Comment