Biscuit had his third piano lesson last night, and he still seems to be enjoying it.
After last week's lesson, we let him pick out a backpack just for his music books and papers. He was really proud to show it to his teacher last night.
We got to the teacher's house early, so he started Biscuit's lesson at about 6:25 p.m. (His lessons are usually from 6:30 to 7 p.m.)
I had told the teacher before the first lesson that Biscuit can be very focused and attentive, but only for about 30 minutes. That's how long the group time is at day care, when they read books, talk about their sight words and do their general book learning. So Biscuit is used to sitting still for that long ... but no longer.
So last night, I was assuming that since the teacher started 5 minutes early, he would end 5 minutes early. But he tried to push it until 7 p.m.
The teacher has made a big fuss about how well-behaved and attentive Biscuit is during his lessons. I don't know the teacher well enough yet, but if I knew him better, I would say, "Yeah, he is well-behaved 90 percent of the time, but as for the attention, you got about 32 minutes, and that's it."
So sure enough, at 6:57 p.m. last night, Biscuit's concentration was broken.
The teacher played with one hand a section of Beethoven's "Fur Elise." And that set Biscuit off.
"Heeeeyyyyy!" he said. "They play that song on 'Tom & Jerry' cartoons. Did you know that? It's very funny because Tom was chasing Jerry, and Tom thought he was going to eat Jerry for lunch, and he was running across a piano and ..."
And then he went on to talk about the Bugs Bunny/Elmer Fudd cartoon where Bugs fixed up Elmer in the barbershop to the tune of "Barber of Seville."
The teacher just looked at Biscuit, then looked at us.
I wanted to say, "Welcome to Minute 32!"
You remember how Cinderella turned into a pumpkin at midnight? Well, at Minute 32, Biscuit turns into a typical, chatty, running, jumping, bouncing, noise-making boy.
As we were leaving, I asked Biscuit, "Did you have fun at your lesson?"
"Yes ma'am," Biscuit said. Then a few seconds passed by and he said, "Mom, will there be a fourth lesson?"
I'm not sure why it was so funny, but I almost choked trying not to laugh. I guess it was just the phrasing of the question.
"If you want a fourth lesson, then we'll do it," I told Biscuit.
"Mom, how many lessons CAN I have?" Biscuit asked.
"You can have as many lessons as you'd like," I told Biscuit.
"Then I want to do this until I'm a grown up!" Biscuit said.
"Sounds good to me," I said.