Notes

These were delicious chocolate truffles yesterday, thank you, Daughter 2.  There's one left over which has been promised to Grandson next time he's here. I wonder if he'll remember? (That's a rhetorical question.)

 

We just ate these ourselves today, since the grandchildren didn't visit. Yum.

 

Grandson likes to sit at the piano, bashing away experimentally. I wish I could play well enough to fascinate him with my brilliance and thus, possibly, inspire him to play an actual tune. (Mind you, my father could play brilliantly and this didn't inspire me other than in an I-wish-I-could-play-without-bothering-to-learn-and-practise way.)

Yesterday, however, he drew these notes. I was quite surprised; my music is open on the music stand bit of the piano (does this have a name?) but we'd never discussed it. Granted, they're not on a stave; but they are recognisable notes. He then proceeded to sing us the song that he said it represented: this was meant to be a carol, I suppose, which began "Baby Jesus didn't fall down" and continued for a while. He is a hoot.

The notes reminded me of my dad. Because he was very musical, people tended to send him birthday cards with musical notes on them, and because he was also a bit - hmm, well - critical, it would irritate him if they were just random notes, as above, rather than a piece of accurate musical notation. Card manufacturers, are you listening?