Last is Best

Jdog began cello lessons three weeks ago.  I don't think this little man has ever been so excited about anything.  We observed his teacher, Carey Cheney, for three months prior to his first lesson.  He received a cello for Christmas, and two weeks ago he proudly carried it--backpack style--into the Cheney cello studio.  His full-cheek, twinkly-eyed smile never once left his face.

Fast forward three weeks.  He still loves his cello.  He loves setting up his practice magic carpet.  He loves bowing and sitting on his own little stool.  But when it is time to pluck out a few rhythmic note patterns, he slumps over, grunts and says, "I'm tired."

I knew this would happen.  Even with his heart brimming with excitement about joining the strings community in our family, it's just hard to sit down and learn new things.  Especially when you're JJ, and new things make you a little uncomfortable.  And singing new songs in front of new people is something you don't really like to do.  But sweet JJ will sing every word to every song when no one is watching.  He rehearses the melodies and rhythms on his cello CD with exactness as we drive from place to place in the car.  But it's hard to put it all together in front of your mom, especially when you can sense she is losing patience as an hour of practice attempts tick by on the clock.

So, this morning after I got Aaron off to school, I was determined to make it to the end of his practice exercises.  We failed with each attempt in the past two days.  I sat there with him and told him I wasn't going anywhere.  "I'm not giving up on you, and I know you don't want to give up on cello.  It is hard, but you can do hard things."  Over and over again.

It took us two hours of attempts, but he did it.  It only took him 15 minutes when he actually got going. It was like something clicked in his mind--and he didn't need chocolate chip bribery or elaborate train tracks built--one piece for every exercise he completed.  All he needed to know was that I wasn't going anywhere.  I wasn't going to give up on practice.  So, he didn't give up either.

And then after it all I smothered him again and again with kisses, and "I'm so proud of you for doing hard things" praise.  And I am.  So stinking proud.

J has this thing going lately, "last is best of all the rest."  Sometimes it is extremely aggravating and inconvenient, and silly.  But today, if we had raced in some sort of cello practice contest we most certainly would have come in last.  But it was the best race of all the rest, I would say.