Of Termites And Foundations And Learning The Keyboard

Beth has a tendency to give up at the slightest whiff of hardship.

I managed to get her on the keyboard today after much cajoling and then threatening. We got through one piece, but when it was her turn to play, she began crying, saying it was too hard. (Her job was to play with both hands, with the left hand making up two-note chords.)

This left-right coordination is of course not an overnight achievement, and I had to tell her a long story about how many years it had taken Mummy to learn the piano (17 years!) and how many hours of practice Grandaunty made me put in each day (4 hours!).

We talked about the parable of the wise man who built his house upon the rock and the foolish man who built his house on the sand, and what happened when the rains came.

We talked about how a house is built from the foundation upwards, not from the roof downwards, and the importance of laying a good solid foundation.

We talked about what termites can do to timber.

At the end of all that, my voice was hoarse, but I was pleased that the message had been received with the right spirit. (Or so I thought.)

Beth promised to give it another try.

She sat down, hit the wrong notes, and promptly burst into tears.

I told her if it takes ten tries to get it right, that's what she has to do.

"I think I'll try a bit more," she sniffed.

She got it right on the next attempt.

"Good job Beth!"

"I think I'll try it section by section."

"What a clever idea! I'm proud of you for suggesting it."

At least she's willing to try.