Shielding Small Eyes from Violins - Erica Schippers

Or, let the installation of neuroses begin!

I've traumatized my child. Of course, it was unintentional, but isn't it usually? You do something with the best intentions in the world, but then it takes a sudden wrong turn and you're hurtling into trauma-land.

It happened on Tues. Jack was sitting in his excersaucer/walker/whatever-the-heck-they're-called, drooling copiously and trying to eat a set of brightly-colored plastic keys. I was sitting on the floor next to him, simultaneously making faces and a total fool of myself for his amusement. Then I had the Idea.

Hey, I thought, he likes music and I haven't had a chance to practice my violin in a while. I should play the violin for him. He'll be happy, I'll be practicing, it's a win-win, right? Wrong.

I should state that I'm no virtuoso, but I don't sound like a sack of cats on the thing, either. In any case, I got no further than a few quick tuning strokes (A-D, D-G, A-E) before Jack started to scream hysterically. He was afraid of the violin.

I had played it for him before. Granted, it had been a few weeks, but he'd liked it fine then. Now, he was screaming like the violin was worse than vaccinations.

I put the instrument down, snatched my howling child from his seat, and proceeded to comfort, cuddle, and laugh at him (joined almost immediately by Grandma and Dad - his, not mine) until he was calm again. Then I made the mistake of walking back into the living room, where the violin was still sitting out of its case on the floor. Jack saw it. His lower lip stuck out, his face turned red, and he began to wail. We were back at square one.

A day later his reaction had dwindled to a whimpering, suspicious scowl, giving me hope that I can play the violin around him again before he turns sixteen. I can just hear him in therapy years from now. "Doctor, I have this recurring nightmare. There's an enormous violin chasing me. It has fangs. And my mother is there, pointing and laughing. What do you think it means?"

Last night his father was playing 'baby toss' with Jack and tossed him a little too enthusiastically. Jack bonked his head on the ceiling, eliciting horrified gasps in stereo from his grandmother and me, as we had both just finished telling his father "don't do that, you'll bump his head". We descended on them, scolding his father and trying not to let on that we were upset so as not to upset Jack. We needn't have worried. He was laughing.

Comments

[Mark Everson]

So Jack prefers being bonked on the head to the violin. . . I guess that's one vote for his future being in football vs. orchestra. And on the violin incident, you obviously need a psychoanalysis fund in addition to the the college fund. ;-)

[Catherine]

What is he, about five or six months old now? It's been a while since I read this, but I know that babies' stimulus barrier changes some time early in the first year. At first, they can sleep through an earthquake. Then at some point they can't block out noise like that anymore. I'm not sure when that is, but it could account for the change. Maybe you could try some violin music on cd and see if that bothers him, turned down to a reasonable level. Or maybe play in a different room. I think that the sound of a violin is pretty shrill to small ears. It bothers Glen a little. When my teacher played at my last lesson, he was there. She played beautifully, but he slapped his hands over his ears like he was in pain. Actually, it kind of makes me think of how children are more sensitive to bitter flavors in food, hence dislike of bitter veggies like broccoli.

Anyway, let's hope that slow, gradual hearing damage will cure the problem by the time he's school-aged or so.

(by the way, I found an excellent suzuki violin teacher. Something to think about in a few years. Glen will be starting lessons in the fall.)

[Steven Piziks]

Oh dear! Aran never went through this with the harp, fortunately.

Sometimes it's amazing that children actually survive babyhood! :)

--Steven

[Erica]

Mark -

Hee! On the football vs. orchestra. If he takes after his father in strength and general indestructability, football's not a bad option.

Catherine -

I thought that might be the case - the sound sensitivity. I was sitting very close to him, right on the same level. He does like music of all sorts, including fiddle, if they're played on the CD player. He was probably just surprised by the very loud, very sudden sound. But I can definitely count on that slow, gradual hearing damage. We're not exactly a quiet family. :)

Steven -

Too true on the surviving babyhood. In addition to an overenthusiastic father, Jack has absolutely no sense of self-preservation, and I don't really expect he'll develop one before he turns, oh, twenty-five.