Week 42: '67 Camaro

Doing something a tiny bit different this week, I'm beginning with the photo of my car, credited to photographer Phil Pekarcik. This awesome Hot Wheels has a hood that opens, and through the magic of Photoshop, Phil has given us an x-ray vision effect showing the engine under the hood. So cool.

The majority of tiny cars, now as was then, do not have hoods or trunks or doors that open, so when you get one that has these interactive pieces, they are even more special, because they are one step closer to a real car.

With my youngest son Baby G (now 2), however, such a vehicle would become a musical instrument*, an automotive castanet that would click click click with a wrist flip to an imagined salsa beat.

To Baby G everything is a musical instrument. He is a like a toddler Stomp.

Strangely, he never went for the low hanging fruit of pots and pans and wooden spoons, a classic of toddler percussion, preferring instead overturned boxes, crates and laundry baskets, played both by feet, hands and any striking object. He plays a mean set of paint cans, but his shampoo bottle on bathtub edge is pretty good, also.

I find it awesome how he releases the music in common items, from tape measures to books to whatever two items I hear him clacking together behind me in his seat while I'm driving, and if I've had to scoop away a couple of glass bottles before they cracked or take away a box of crackers before the contents were completely reduced to a crunchy coating for fish or chicken, for the most part I stay clear of his musical vision. 

That doesn't mean the noise, however rhythmic, doesn't get annoying. What changes everything for me, however, is his face, sometimes illuminated with a pure joyous smile, but other times completely lost in the moment and intent on catching the beat, his head tilted to one sound like he does, concentrating on laying down a consistent groove. I see that face, and my desire to yell "STOP THAT NOISE" goes away.

See, he may only be two, but he makes it very easy to tell when he is simply making noise and when he he making music. You can feel the difference. And music is good.

One of the most difficult challenges for me as a parent is coping with constant noise -- everything can be so loud, sometimes.. no, all the time. The banging, clanging, tapping, clapping, stomping of Baby G, however, is different. Like the sounds of the spring peepers and crickets at night, I'm glad they exist, however loud.

In a noisy world, those sounds are harmony.

* The actual Daddy's Tiny Car has not been used as a castanet as, not even by me.