One way we know Ben likes — REALLY likes — the music we’re playing in the car is, if he thinks we’re about to change it, he’ll lean forward and gently grab my elbow until I move my arm back into the resting position.
This happens with stuff he already knows and, especially, loves. Today, he gave me a big surprise.
It isn’t Benny Music Day, the last day of a visit, when Ben gets to choose whatever we listen to (even though he’ll still make “requests” all day — hey, keep hope alive!). It’s Daddy Music Day, when I am the DJ-in-charge, and he mostly hears things he’s unfamiliar with, of all kinds — classical, greek, bluegrass, newgrass, rock, weird stuff, bulgarian, jazz, klezmer, nuevo tango, blah blah blah, and blah.
This time, it was Stravinsky’s Firebird Suite, something I’m pretty sure he’d never heard before. I also figured he probably thought it was OK, since he hadn’t requested “Sam Bush” or “Joel Frankel” or (gulp) “Raffi” at any point while it was playing.
The end of the Firebird is one of the more glorious finales in music, and it’s also loud. I reached over to turn the volume down a notch or two. To my very pleasant shock, I felt his hand on my elbow.
I let it finish at full blast.
As soon as it ended and the applause began, he said “Raffi.”
OK, I didn’t mind this time because, hey, who knew?
Ben’s a Stravinsky fan!
(click on the image to hear the Firebird finale)