Guitar Hero

As we leave grandma and grandpa’s house, Dax quietly asks, “Mom. Can I take this home?”

“No, Dax. It stays here,” I say hoping against hope that this answer doesn’t result in a total melt down. It is already past bedtime on an already long Sunday tacked on to an over jammed weekend.

“But can I play with it when we come back?”

“Yes, of course,” I say and softly guide him towards the toy box to put it away. Pheww. He handled that pretty good.

The second Dax puts it down, one of the other cousins grab it. I look at his face and can tell he is heartbroken to leave it. It’s his most beloved toy at my mom and dad’s house. It’s the one that all the grandkids can play with alike; all the way from the oldest to the youngest, boy or girl. Even Wyatt had a few seconds with it before a bigger, faster cousin swiped it away. He just moved on to something else. He doesn’t quite have the love for it just yet, but he will. It’s the toy that was purchased at a garage sale for a dollar but would cause buckets and buckets of tears by all twelve grandchildren if it ever broke. It’s the toy that even on its loudest setting doesn’t bother me. It’s the toy that makes me smile when I see the kids playing with it.

It’s the Sesame Street guitar.

When we left the house on Sunday night, Dax proclaims, “I love playing that guitar”. I love how he says guitar, just like a cowboy with a twang. It made me smile because I love watching him play that guitar.

I would love for Dax to have the exact same one at home. But truthfully, it really wouldn’t be as fun. Part of the fun of this toy is that it stays exclusively at grandmas and grandpas. I would never want to take the fun of it away by having the same exact one at our house. Nor do I think I could ever find one like it anywhere.

But, I thought something along the same lines might be fun. So yesterday, this is what I came up with.

You would have thought I invented a light bulb with how excited Dax was when this little creation was complete. He didn’t want me to cover it with paper, or give the suggestion of him taking some markers to it, or even wear the perfect zebra print guitar strap ribbon I had stashed in my closet. He wanted music on right then and there so he could rock out. It’s was so funny to watch him play, even on his shoebox/rubberband guitar. He does this move that I’ve learned is called the Duck Walk. He jumps on one leg and can move his other foot back-and-forth all while he’s playing. And his favorite is running and sliding on his knees across the tile. He really looks the part…and I have no idea where he got these moves. Either way, I was totally entertained listening to him play.

As I’m watching him I decide, one day, as soon as he is old enough, I think he would love taking guitar lessons. I would sign him up as soon as he was ready. I started daydreaming as he sat on the couch concentrating on plucking those guitar strings how fun it would be to have him play songs for the family around the campfire when we are camping, or maybe even play nursery rhymes for any future little babies who come along. He could play in the school talent show and at Christmas parties. It would be so much fun to have someone with musical talent in the house.

Then I pictured him wanting to start a grunge band in the garage. He's already got the holey jeans.

And then, maybe 10 or 12 years from now when he asks me if he can, I would think, “This is all my fault.”

And then I would probably smile again.