Once upon a time, Baby Bear received a battery-powered Yamaha keyboard for Christmas 2008:
He played it constantly. How often? Well, let’s just say that before that year was out—a mere sennight—we learned that it might be more economical to use rechargeable batteries, unless we wanted to buy a fresh pack of regulars every week.
The batteries had to be recharged almost every day.
The keyboard was lightweight enough that he carried it all over the house, from room to room, so it would always be with him. He even took it to bed with him, and went to sleep while it repetitiously played some rhythm that we found absolutely annoying, yet somehow it mysteriously lulled him to sleep. At that point I would turn it off for the night. If I didn’t remove it from his room, I might be awakened at three in the morning by the sound of his playing. (See previous blog entry for my position on this issue.)
He made up his own tunes and melodies, many of which have become as familiar to me as any classics or old standards or songs by the Beatles.
He even plays with two hands. All this on his own.
But sometimes he could really pound on that keyboard, with the result that this finally happened:
As time went by, more teeth were knocked out, and the keyboard was on the verge of losing a fifth when it finally died.
Of course, it had to die the day before the start of a three-day holiday weekend. I had only a few hours to find a replacement before Baby Bear came home from summer school. I didn't want to think of what kind of weekend I might have if that kid didn't have a keyboard to plunk on. His passion for it was that profound.
Being pinched for time and money (not that we didn't have the money for it, but I didn't want to spend that much without first consulting Mr. Lucky, who wouldn't be home until after the Bear), I found this cheap $25.00 model at Wal-Mart:
Baby Bear played with it for just a bit, and then abandoned it. It simply did not meet his high quality standards.
But I couldn't bear to see him give up playing, especially his own tunes, no matter how annoying it is when I'm trying to watch the evening news--a great deal of which tends to annoy me more than his piano-playing, anyway.
The Yamaha keyboard got him doing something constructive. It lit a fire in him, and I didn't want that fire to go out.
So we shopped around and bought him another Yamaha keyboard: