The Prodigy

Eli has always exhibited a keen interest in sounds and music. My wife and I had noted this but more or less tucked it away to be explored when he was older. But then I heard a news story about a three-year-old violin genius and references to Mozart composing at five years old. I knew it was time.

I had it all played out in my head: I'd sit down with him at the piano (keyboard). He'd patiently wait for me to explain what a few of the keys were. I'd play two notes. He'd repeat them. I'd play a chord. He'd repeat it. Then he'd shout, “I got this!,” stand up on the chair, and pound out a virtuosic rendition of some complicated Bach piece he’d heard once while in the womb.

That’s not quite what happened. For one, he’s two and a half so just getting him to sit at the piano could have been my magnum opus. Once that was accomplished, he wanted to get straight to the pounding of the keys. A prodigy, he is not. Well, unless you consider the ability to make a piano sound exactly how I imagine it would sound if it was rolled down a mountain end over end prodigious. In that case he’s a prodigy.

After the piano fail, I decided sports may be his forte anyway. After all, when we’re in the backyard he will often excitedly run in a tight circle shouting, “I’m running, I’m running!” and that type of unabashed self-centered activity is what professional sports is all about. His Poppy had given him a baseball starter set (a plastic bat, ball and tee) and since I’m partial to baseball I thought that was a good place to start exploring his athletic abilities.

I placed the ball on the tee and he whacked it. Not bad, the ball went a good 15 feet. I set the ball back on the tee to see if this was a fluke and he laid in to it again sending it to the fence in the air. He also demonstrated a strong and accurate throwing arm. Mozart was a sissy anyway, my boy’s going to be a ball player!

I picked up the ball and told him we were going to work on catching. He did this exceptionally well -- with his face. I tossed him the ball and he leaned back a little, opened his hands, and let the ball smack him in the forehead. It’s a good thing the announcer from the Express wasn't around to say “there’s no crying in baseball,” because there was definitely crying in baseball in our yard. After he calmed down, he realized it was only a flesh wound and we went back to playing.

But then I noticed he was not holding the bat right and he wasn’t able to hit the ball unless it was on the tee. We also played another round of catch the ball with your face and I came to the conclusion that he's probably about as athletic as the next two and a half year old.

But I'm not disappointed. Actually, I'm glad Eli's not a prodigy. It's hard to imagine a prodigy having any sort of childhood with such mature capabilities. Then again, they'd be a prodigy, what do they care? Childhood is for dummies.

I do think Eli has musical inclinations, and he probably will be good at some sports, just perhaps not on the level of the super stars. (Unless there's a sport where you catch the ball with your face, in which case we're golden).

Parents, usually out of love, want their kids to be THE best. But you know, it probably works out better for everyone when we just help our kids do their best. And to catch with their hands.