Sunday, January 15, 2012

Life's Fair.

Hello everybody, this is my first post, my daddy wanted to write something about me, but then he thought it would be more credible if I myself wrote it. It's about how it is to be a kid, almost one year old. And you know what? My dad was damn right, I mean right (I need to mind my effing language), I am a far better writer than him. What do you mean by "This doesn't say anything"? Anyway, I'd like to take you to a small journey in my life so we'll get to know each other better.

I will not insist on my little things I am so fond on, like licking and biting remote controls or chewing on cables, and all that in a total oblivion to the hill of toys I could play with. I will not tell you how much I enjoy my parents telling me their favourite joke "Nooo, you're not allowed to do that", although this is one of the top moments of the day.

Instead, I will now tell you about the drama I used to live in for a while. That's true, you're never too young to experience one. One day I realised that my parents had a huge black monster next to my living room bed, that was not just some piece of furniture on which my photo's would be placed. Nor was that a mirror reflecting my cute face (ahem!), although it did. It was that one day when I saw that the monster had a lid and the lid got open and there lied, from what I could count at the moment, 52 white sticks and 36 black. And when you hit them, bang, THEY MAKE NOISE, YEEEE! I fell in love with it instantaneously (I dare you say this word out loud). What an awesome toy, the best ever. Later I would discover three pedals attached, piece of cake to learn them, they are like the ones in the car, no secrets for me (in the end I'm a boy): the clutch, the brake, and the accelerator.

Anyway, from what I could see at the first glance, that was by far the most expensive piece in the house. And it seemed to be daddy's toy. Certainly his. A few days later, I got the whole picture. Then it hit me. Boy, that thing cost a fortune. I knew that the difference between adults toys and kids toys was the price, but this was outrageous. Ok, I'm not that good in numbers, but such an expensive toy only to butcher "Oh, come all ye faithful" and to play another stupid song about a sleigh that goes "Do-do-sol-sol-laaaaa-sol, do-do-sol-sol-laaaaa-sol Fa-mi-re-mi-do-do" it's waaay beyond my understanding. Jesus Christ, what kind of parents I got? Is THIS their sense of business? My dad could have had all my toy-piano's to show his talents, I don't even look at them. But there went my college money, down the drain, for my father to play 4 or 5 notes, and that with 2 (two) fingers only. What's up next? Me taking up a job at 12?

I was miserable for weeks. Then one day, one of those good days, my mother took a seat in front of the monster (whom I had already hated for having spoiled my university education), opened up the lid, took me on her lap, and started to play. Allow me a moment of inner silence, please, for I need one right now. You could not believe the emotion that came out of her fingers. I don't know her tricks, but she certainly multiplied her fingers, she must have had about 2 hundred of them. The sound came from every direction in a seamless fluency, the music was everywhere, I swear I heard more instruments, a mini orchestra, that was my mom playing. And she must be a great driver too, as she managed to use those pedals so easily.

I was in the seventh cloud. Of course I helped my mom as well, with some good two-hand-hits on the keys that added some depths to the whole piece. The Nocturne she was playing sounded even more orchestral. For me, I regained my trust in life and gosh, I love Shoppin'!

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