Bow Holds and Tight Grips
“Make sure you gently cup his hand like this—“
I took note and nodded. I asked permission to take a photo. My son’s teacher enthusiastically granted it.
Later that evening, right after dinner meal negotiations and before our pajama races, my youngest son and I sat across from each other. He sat on his lime green foldable stool, knobby knees squarely over his ankles, his back straight, and eager eyes ready to take hold of a miniature version of a centuries-old instrument.
But his smile fell, his shoulders soon drooped, and his bottom lip quivered.
“I can’t do it,” he tearfully yelped.
I wrapped my fingers under his palm and gently tickled the top of his hand with my thumb.
“Yes, you can. Yes, because you have. You can do hard things.”
I felt a squeeze in my hand as a returned gesture. Carefully, I slowly let go while he held on.
His still posture and intense focus pricked my heart—is this even worth it? I grabbed a pencil case filled with various colored pencils. They jumbled around like someone playing a scale on a xylophone. I drop a violet pencil in the bow hold that he’s putting so much thought into practicing.
One.
His nose wrinkled. His eyebrows went to the ceiling. He was in awe of himself.
Two.
He lets a gleeful yelp.
Three.
Giggles.
Four.
He echoes, “Four!”
Ten.
His smile matches mine.
Fifteen.
We beat our record from our lesson.
Twenty.
The last of our musical colored pencils dropped out of his perfect bow hold.
“This isn’t hard! I CAN do it!”
I sat back astounded—because the most natural thing for a person his age is to hold on with a tight fist. I should expect no less of his excitement while he’s learning something new. After all, how do you teach a person who has seen the world for only 5 years an art that’s existed for centuries? Why wouldn’t be amazed by his thrill?
When he was first born, and I fed him for the first time, I held his little body against mine. He searched for me. I placed my finger in his coiled, tiny hands. He held on and began to cry—he needed my guidance and care. It was my privilege to help him grow.
I’m here. I’m here to guide. I’m here to gently direct. And he’s going to hold onto me with a tight grip because that’s what he knows how to do—it’s his natural posture. He doesn’t know that he’s learning “executive functions”. He just wants to know if I’ll hold his hand along the way.
I sure will, little guy. I sure will.
