Mothers hope to influence their children, but we know mostly we only throw out ideas like fluffy white feathers to the faint wind. While children dance and play in the falling plumes, one may capture a pearly prize in his youthful hands. He may turn the trapped feather over in his palm carefully examining the bony sheath tying together gentle sprays of velvet shoots. The child will caress his cheeks sensing it's softness. He'll pellmell toss the feather again and again watching it drift silently and smoothly to join the others waiting on the quiet earth. Or sometimes the boy will save the feather. The fellow may stick in a jar of treasures or into the brim of a favorite hat and wear it around. He may share the plume's mysteries with other interested children over for an afternoon of merry making and friendship.
Today my son, Tator, snagged a cascading feather I'd cast out rather casually on Christmas day. I purchased a Tommy Emmauel CD for strictly on advice not experience from another homeschool mother I don't know well, but whom I respect deeply. She highly recommended Tommy Emmanuel, because her pickin' and grinnin' sons had introduced Tommy's lovely music to their family.
Two days ago, Tator put the CD on while playing legos. He purposely came and thanked me, "Mom, you were right. I never heard about this man, but I DO love this music." Today Tator's vacillated between going to the front porch to jump on his gift of a pogo stick from his brother Peace, and back inside to practice a song on his guitar with Tommy.
Tears stung my eyes as I was wiping the blue marbled kitchen counter and began to comprehend what was happening. As the day passes by, I cannot always distinguish between the playing on the CD and my son, because he's determined to learn the song. He's learned the tune- not the intricate finger work.
No way on earth could I have persuaded him with bribe nor threats to spend his day this excellent way. He suddenly caught a glorious feather and has decided to keep it. Forever. I am delighted.
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