LITTLE BIT ROCKS THE HOUSE. TRANSVESTITE RABBIT UNFORTUNATELY DOES NOT.
People have been asking me how Little Bit is doing with
guitar lessons. Well let me tell you,
that kid rocks, in a five-year-old, developing motor skills kind of way. She now knows four chords and can play about
six songs, again, if you use a rather loose definition of “play.”
I’ve been pleased with her instructor, who patiently worked
through LB’s resistance to new challenges.
For the first two lessons the child was, shall we say, less than
perfectly cooperative, even though she insisted she really truly wanted to
learn guitar. The teacher has always
been encouraging of her efforts and never frustrated or annoyed by her
Here’s the hitch: Big
sister Tigger takes piano lessons (has done for years now), and her teacher
offers PRIZES (little toys, cool pens, etc.) for mastering scales. To say that this makes Little Bit jealous is
like saying that movie theater popcorn makes you thirsty.
Now, I’m happy to supply reinforcement in the form of
tangible objects for LB, but she is so far from what anyone would call
“mastering” anything on the guitar I don’t quite know what to give her prizes
for. Too many external rewards get in
the way of the inherent gratification that comes with achievement.
As for me, I’m wondering how I did with the goals I set for
myself for 2005. But I’m too chicken to
go back and look at them. I do remember that I swore I would get an essay
published in the My Turn column of Newsweek this year. I certainly didn’t accomplish that one,
though my chances would’ve been better had I actually SUBMITTED an essay before
Hey, I might make it into next week’s issue, who knows?
Also, I’m going to win the Erma Bombeck contest this year. Don’t
even bother entering, folks. I am SO
2005 wasn’t a total loss.
I wrote some kick-ass grants and raised gobs of money for my
agency. I took care of my girls. And judging by their brilliance, beauty, and
loving natures, I’ve done a good job.
Newsweek in 2006!
About the profile pic: I don’t always have that “I’m going to shove that camera down your throat” expression.
Ok, actually, I do.