My children have a lovely piano teacher. Really, truly, a storybook/movie kind of piano teacher. She genuinely loves all of her students. She talks to them. Laughs with them. Accepts them.
She does her job well and with joy, and the blessings drip down and soak our home with music and self discipline.
Avonlea used to ask, when she was little, "I know she's not my grandma, but could she be my aunt, mommy?"
She wanted to belong to her in some way. I don't blame her.
However....our piano teacher does have one very small character blemish.
She likes to gallivant.
She has a son and daughter-in-law and granddaughter that are missionaries in Slovenia (yes, she's the type to woman who raises missionaries, I told you), and she likes to visit them.
For long periods of time.
This in and of itself is not the problem.
The month long break is actually refreshing to the schedule.
The barb here is that she gave the kids their recital music the week before she left.
And it's show tunes.
Singing in the Rain, Chitty Chitty Bang Bang, and Angel of Music have been pounding through my home (and might I mention my temples) for several weeks now.
And there are questions.
Such as, "How do you flat an "F". Why wouldn't they just say "E"?"
UMMMMM........(why didn't I take more lessons?)
And..."What do you do when your hands can't stretch as far as the two notes?"
And...several others that I have forgotten because I couldn't hear them over the pounding temples.
So....if you happen to be in Slovenia or Italy or Austria and you see a beautiful, graceful, Italian looking lady wearing shiny jewelry and flip flops, please send her home.
Because we miss her.
And her niece and nephew need her.
And because I don't drink, but I'm thinking about starting.
And because Rowan doesn't quite pronounce "Chitty Chitty" right when singing along.