Allegro con Brio
In a cozy house in Old Corona, an auburn haired woman named Vivienne sat at her piano, concentrating on one of her favorite activities. Her son and husband watched intently.
Varian was an energetic baby, always crawling everywhere and generally being underfoot, but you couldn't help but love him for it. With a chubby hand he reached for a pedal, marveling at the sound it made.
"Varian, did you want to make music too?" his mother asked, carefully scooping him up and setting him on the bench next to her. "I'll show you how it's done. This is middle C." Vivienne pressed on the key, singing along with the note. "Every white key to the right of it is one step higher. And the black keys go up half a step. Do re mi fa so la ti do. That's a scale, sweetie, when Mommy plays an octave, 8 keys in a row." she explained.
Varian appeared fascinated. He pressed a finger down experimentally and cooed in delight.
"Here sweetie. Put your right hand here, on F and A. And go like this. Rest, ba ba ba. Rest, ba ba ba. Rest ba, rest ba. Rest, ba ba ba," Vivienne instructed. "Now we take your left hand, put it on D and D, and go dee and rest, dee and rest, dee rest dee rest, dee and rest." she smiled.
"Dee!" Varian squealed.
"And we put the parts together, and we're playing a song." Vivienne told him, as she gently moved his hands across the keyboard.
Quirin smiled. He enjoy watching his wife and son play together but still he wondered if she might be rushing things. "Isn't he a little young for this?" Quirin asked.
"Oh, Varian's a bright boy. He understands more than you think." Vivienne asserted. It was true, there was a constant gleam of curiosity in his son's bright blue eyes, so like his mother's.
"Da da!" Varian babbled.
Vivienne grinned mischievously. "Maybe he wants you to join in."
Quirin blanched. "Oh no. I don't- I don't play music or sing. I'm terrible at it." he insisted.
Varian giggled. "Da da up!" he waved his arms frantically.
Now this, Quirin could do. He picked up his son and cradled him lovingly. Varian yawned.
"He's getting sleepy. We can always have another lesson, after his nap." said Vivienne.
Varian closed his eyes, secure in the arms of his father and knowing he was surrounded by love.
The End
This is probably not the best story, but it was inspired by my own music lessons and memories of my father. The song they are playing is Mozart's Turkish Waltz, chosen because it's a nice, easy classical duet. Varian's mom doesn't have a name in canon, but I'm calling her Vivienne because it means "alive" and I am all about that cruel, cruel irony.