Last week I received a formal invitation (printed on actual paper) to attend a Mother�s Day Tea at AJ�s class today. When I dropped AJ off at school this morning, he warned me, �Don�t be late. Remember: 10:45.� When I arrived at 10:45 sharp, the children were assembled in a long, wiggly but almost silent line on the carpeted area of the classroom. I sat myself down in a teeny-tiny chair (and was glad I�d opted for the longer of my two spring skirts this morning) and watched while they sang us a three-song concert (Skin-a-ma-rink-a-dink, the ubiquitous B@rney �I love you� song and �Happy Mother�s Day to you�), complete with choreography. There was scarcely a dry eye in the house when they finished and escorted us to our assigned seats at tables that came up to about my shin for tea (for the mommies), juice (for the kids), and cookies (for everybody). Our places were marked by photos of the kids in frames that they�d made out of old CD cases as well as portraits of us that they had drawn with the things they loved most about us at the bottom. AJ�s reads �My mom takes me lots of places. She gives me lots of hugs. She always kisses me goodbye before she goes to work.� I am looking very glamorous in a full body portrait in yellow crayon. That one�s getting framed for my office wall, I think.

But the excitement of the morning�s program was almost lost in the excitement of the errand AJ knew we were to run right afterwards � we went to the string shop to get AJ a violin. He�s been clamoring to play for at least a year and keeps wanting to try out mine, which is way too big and heavy, although we�ve played some pretty entertaining duets with me doing the fingers and him doing the bow. He is now the proud custodian of a 1/10 size violin. It�s the cutest little shoebox of an instrument you ever saw. The violin in its case is not much bigger than the body of my instrument minus the fingerboard.

The local string shop is in the basement of C�s house. We were greeted at the door by her Siamese kitten, which of course made AJ very happy. He also loved the tour of the workshop, littered with all kinds of string instruments, including a parking lot of celli, all of which were substantially bigger than himself. He was most taken with the large switch of horsehair hanging off one end of the workbench for bow rehairing.

AJ carried the violin in his lap all the way home and insisted on an instant lesson as soon as we walked in the door. We practiced holding the instrument and I let him saw away without too much comment � I want him to get comfortable and have fun, more than anything else. He liked a game where I played a rhythm for him and he had to mimic it back to me on an open string. Then he�d play one for me.

At one point he got so involved in what he was doing that I sneaked downstairs, grabbed the phone, called my mom and said, �Do you remember this sound?� holding the phone up towards AJ, who was making scritchy-scratchy noises with a big grin on his face. She laughed and recalled when we moved into our London flat how nervous she�d been about my violin practice. We�d been living in a house previously and I�d only been playing for a year. But the neighbors never said a thing, and so she thought the thick walls and floors of the 18th c. building were soundproof. When we moved out several years later, however, the upstairs neighbors came down to say goodbye. Mrs. B. gave me a big hug and said, �Oh, and you play the violin so much better now, dear!�

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