Spoon Bowing

Hildegard,

Well, I can't say that a whole lot has changed. Most days, I still feel like I am almost pulling teeth to get The Maestro to come sit with his cello. In reading the book today, I have renewed determination to find creative solutions to help that part be fun. Meanwhile, he spontaneously sang Twinkle all the way through today. Yesterday he checked out a rain stick from his preschool library and had fun trying to rain-stick to the rhythm of one of the Twinkle variations. We also do a "modern dance", mimicking a flower growing, to one of the Twinkle variations.

Listening to Joshua Bell's Mendelssohn Concerto for Violin and Orchestra in E Minor, The Maestro got a huge kick out of two great pizzicato in the middle of some lively bowing, so we let him sit with his cello and pluck with the music (I'm sure this isn't ideal, but he positively insisted on "bowing" with a big wooden spoon, and since he was actually wanting to be with his cello, we let him go ahead. He thought it was awesome.)

Anyhow, like the book reminded me, there is a lot going on inside The Maestro, even if he balks at bowing to me lately, or if he won't likely produce "I Love My Cello" tomorrow. I've been really emotionally tied to seeing physical, sit-with-the-cello progress, but it will probably help if I calm down about it a bit.

We did stop by your office (and left muffins) -- we were out in that part of town to do a couple of other things. I should've called you this morning to see if you would be there. I am realizing that telling the Maestro "Well, she might not be there" a few times really don't soften the blow of not getting to see his new favorite grown up.

Well, I better go do some cleaning, but we are looking forward to tomorrow’s lesson.

Your friend,
Riley