He’s Got Rhythm

Who could ask for anything more?


That’s my 8-month-old percussionist son, joyfully whacking his open palm on the coffee table. Or the chair. Or the piano bench. Or the dog. Whatever.

About a month ago, he learned (with a little help from Grammy) how to pull himself to a standing position. He’s only gotten better at it since then, and, boy, am I proud.

But more to the point: once he’s standing there at the coffee table, he has to do something. And he’s decided few things are more intriguing than learning what sounds furniture makes when used as a drum.

The latest development was to add actual drums. On a recent trip to Texas, my boy met his percussionist uncle for the first time. It only took a few minutes to get the two of them together behind a drum kit, with my little one awkwardly clutching the drumstick and tapping it against each surface.

RAT-A-TAT-TAT went the snare drum.

PING PING PING went the cymbal.

BOOM BOOM BOOM went the tom-tom.

And maybe nobody else could hear it, but this daddy’s heart chimed in with a pride-filled THUMP THUMP THUMP.

Article © 2006 by Michael Duck