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ninanevermore.
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My 5-year-old son, Sweet Pea, has definite preferences when it comes to music, and he has from the time he was an infant. He’s never had a lot of use for most of the music made especially for little kids (though he is a fan of They Might Be Giants). The problem with most of the treacley fair they offer for children is that doesn’t feature any electric guitar. He prefers bands that, in his words, “rock out.”
A few months ago, when the weather was still quite warm, Sweet Pea asked me for a penny so he could throw it in a fountain and make a wish.
“I wish for a guitar,” he said.
“What kind of guitar?” I asked him.
“A loud one.”
As a baby he and I used to spend our Saturday nights at a local coffee house that featured an open microphone. I started hanging out at it while I was pregnant with Sweet Pea, and I continued to bring him after he was born since he was used to listening to the music through the wall of my belly, anyway. He seemed to like it just as well listening to it on the outside, at least in most cases. He was good as gold through most of the performances, with certain exceptions. If the person couldn’t play their instruments or carry a tune, Sweet Pea would start to fret and I had to take him outside before he burst into a full-fledged wail. Even more peculiar, he couldn’t stand anyone who was too mellow. One woman used to bring a keyboard in and play these sort of new-age, easy-listening type songs she had composed herself. She wasn’t bad and it was the kind of music you would use to put a baby to sleep, but Sweet Pea hated her. After the first few notes were played on her keyboard, his little body would stiffen and he’d make his I am miserable and I am about to start crying face. As soon as we stepped outside, he would act content again.
The music that made him happiest when he was a baby was the blues. He never fretted when anyone was playing the blues. He also sat through the Jimmy Buffet covers and the Texas Folk Rock numbers without complaint. He liked hanging out with the musicians, who treated him as kind as a mascot. I even have pictures of him as a toddler sitting with some of them while they played on stage. When my friend Astro Joe got up and played the accordion to upbeat songs like Hey Baby, Que Paso?, Sweet Pea was delighted. If someone got up after that and played a soothing ballad, he was annoyed. Perky pop songs? Forget about it. Those are another thing he can’t stand.
I think his love for rock started when he got his first DVD of the series, What’s New Scooby Doo?. This updated Scooby series from a few years ago has a soundtrack of alternative rock, and Sweet Pea loves it. Now if we are at a street festival and he hears a band in the distance, he perks up.
“Hey, Mommy! There’s a band rocking out over there! Let’s go see!” (The fact that he pronounces this as dere’s a band wocking out ober dere! makes it all the more charming.)
When he’s in the car with his dad, he complains if the radio is tuned to anything mellow. He seems to feel that music is supposed to make you feel alive, not put you to sleep.
Last weekend, he told me he doesn’t like going to one of the local grocery stores. When I asked why not, he said, “I don’t like the music they play there.” They play a sort of Muzak soundtrack at that particular store, and it makes Sweet Pea irritable.
When he grows up, he wants to be a rock star. And a firefighter. And maybe an astronaut. The world is his oyster and he doesn’t see any reason he can’t be all three. He sulked when I told him that most people learn to play an acoustic guitar before they play an electric one so when we buy him a guitar we would probably buy him one of those first to learn on.
“But I want a loud one,” he complained, “I want to rock out!” And then he swung his arm around like he was playing an invisible electric guitar while doing his best impression of the electric wail such an instrument makes.
I’m thinking that by the time he becomes an adolescent, there aren’t going to be very many quiet moments around my house.
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.
.
My 5-year-old son, Sweet Pea, has definite preferences when it comes to music, and he has from the time he was an infant. He’s never had a lot of use for most of the music made especially for little kids (though he is a fan of They Might Be Giants). The problem with most of the treacley fair they offer for children is that doesn’t feature any electric guitar. He prefers bands that, in his words, “rock out.”
A few months ago, when the weather was still quite warm, Sweet Pea asked me for a penny so he could throw it in a fountain and make a wish.
“I wish for a guitar,” he said.
“What kind of guitar?” I asked him.
“A loud one.”
As a baby he and I used to spend our Saturday nights at a local coffee house that featured an open microphone. I started hanging out at it while I was pregnant with Sweet Pea, and I continued to bring him after he was born since he was used to listening to the music through the wall of my belly, anyway. He seemed to like it just as well listening to it on the outside, at least in most cases. He was good as gold through most of the performances, with certain exceptions. If the person couldn’t play their instruments or carry a tune, Sweet Pea would start to fret and I had to take him outside before he burst into a full-fledged wail. Even more peculiar, he couldn’t stand anyone who was too mellow. One woman used to bring a keyboard in and play these sort of new-age, easy-listening type songs she had composed herself. She wasn’t bad and it was the kind of music you would use to put a baby to sleep, but Sweet Pea hated her. After the first few notes were played on her keyboard, his little body would stiffen and he’d make his I am miserable and I am about to start crying face. As soon as we stepped outside, he would act content again.
The music that made him happiest when he was a baby was the blues. He never fretted when anyone was playing the blues. He also sat through the Jimmy Buffet covers and the Texas Folk Rock numbers without complaint. He liked hanging out with the musicians, who treated him as kind as a mascot. I even have pictures of him as a toddler sitting with some of them while they played on stage. When my friend Astro Joe got up and played the accordion to upbeat songs like Hey Baby, Que Paso?, Sweet Pea was delighted. If someone got up after that and played a soothing ballad, he was annoyed. Perky pop songs? Forget about it. Those are another thing he can’t stand.
I think his love for rock started when he got his first DVD of the series, What’s New Scooby Doo?. This updated Scooby series from a few years ago has a soundtrack of alternative rock, and Sweet Pea loves it. Now if we are at a street festival and he hears a band in the distance, he perks up.
“Hey, Mommy! There’s a band rocking out over there! Let’s go see!” (The fact that he pronounces this as dere’s a band wocking out ober dere! makes it all the more charming.)
When he’s in the car with his dad, he complains if the radio is tuned to anything mellow. He seems to feel that music is supposed to make you feel alive, not put you to sleep.
Last weekend, he told me he doesn’t like going to one of the local grocery stores. When I asked why not, he said, “I don’t like the music they play there.” They play a sort of Muzak soundtrack at that particular store, and it makes Sweet Pea irritable.
When he grows up, he wants to be a rock star. And a firefighter. And maybe an astronaut. The world is his oyster and he doesn’t see any reason he can’t be all three. He sulked when I told him that most people learn to play an acoustic guitar before they play an electric one so when we buy him a guitar we would probably buy him one of those first to learn on.
“But I want a loud one,” he complained, “I want to rock out!” And then he swung his arm around like he was playing an invisible electric guitar while doing his best impression of the electric wail such an instrument makes.
I’m thinking that by the time he becomes an adolescent, there aren’t going to be very many quiet moments around my house.
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no subject
Date: 2010-02-26 07:05 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-02-26 08:49 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-02-27 02:25 pm (UTC)Of course, I never learnt to actually play the thing until I was eleven... :D
no subject
Date: 2010-02-26 09:10 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-02-27 01:08 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-02-26 09:15 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-02-27 01:07 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-02-26 11:13 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-02-27 01:12 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-02-27 02:19 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-02-27 02:00 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-02-27 04:33 am (UTC)And both of the guitars are electric. I took guitar lessons for a gazillion years on an electric guitar. (The fact that I still can't play is moot, right?)
no subject
Date: 2010-02-27 02:05 pm (UTC)At 5, I don't he appreciates all the time and effort it takes to learn how to "wok out" and not sound like the musicians that made him cry when he was a baby.
no subject
Date: 2010-02-28 09:06 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-03-01 08:57 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-03-01 11:18 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-03-02 02:20 am (UTC)Sweet Pea plays a mean air guitar right now. I'll have to look into getting him a real one.
no subject
Date: 2010-03-03 01:58 am (UTC)So, yay for musically inclined and motivated young'uns!
Oh, and my little girl is really stoked that she greatly resembles Taylor Swift. She can already sing along to her songs on the radio, and I can already tell that one of her first songs she learns on her own will be a Taylor Swift one. :P
no subject
Date: 2010-03-03 02:32 pm (UTC)She's 6, so Taylor Smith is an understandable role model. Her taste will no doubt get more sophisticated as she gets older. :)