For the past week or so, my oldest daughter (who is 9) has been practicing the guitar every single night.
I played the guitar (okay, I'll admit I wasn't very good but I sure did practice alot - and a far cry from Eddie Van Halen or Slash) in my later teenage years. This would be from sixteen through possibly nineteen. I played a little after that, but by then writing took up much of my time. I could play a few riffs, like the opening to Extreme's "More Than Words" and GNR's "Sweet Child O' Mine."
But that was it.
Luckily, when my daughter asked me if I would teach her, I had a few basic guitar books to get her started. She plays for about 15-20 minutes each night. She's downstairs in our spare bedroom while I'm right next door in my office. She plinks away, stroking chords after chords, getting better by the smallest of increments.
After each of her practice sessions, I ask her, "Are you sick of it yet?"
"No way!" she tells me. She has this glow in her eye like she was just handed a huge bowl of cookie dough ice cream (both of our favorites) and a spoon all her own.
Will this last long? It's hard to say. But by my asking her the question, "Are you sick of it yet?" allows me to gauge whether or not this is a phase for her. She tells me that her fingers hurt, and I tell her that's to be expected. But as determined as she is, if this is the path her life will take, she'll take to it like a bullet.
Her favorite singer right now is Ke$ha. She tells me she wants to be like her.
"That's fine," I say. "But be the best at being you. Then someday you'll have some little girls tell their parents, 'I want to be the next ________.'"
Are you sick of your dream yet?