When our son was growing in his mother’s womb we bombarded him with music. At first it was sort of a joke. Headphones on the belly were a funny thing to do. It allowed us to share our favorite music, things that moved us, our influences, to our son before he was born. I shared my favorite bands and my wife shared a healthy dose of pop music with bass beats. We both shared wonderful piano transcriptions and orchestrated masterpieces with our son. Later on, when we found out he was breech, playing music was one of the many suggested strategies for getting him into the correct position for birth.
Our son still demonstrates a love for music to this day. His favorite instrument is now the keyboard. He’s figured out how to climb up high, turn it on, increase the volume, and play a demo song while banging on the keys for extra “texture.” When he first started doing this it was all cute. Since he learned where the volume knob and the power button are it has been increasingly difficult for my wife and I to get anything done without succumbing to headaches. We’ve since attached headphones to the keyboard so that the sound doesn’t travel as far but is still audible enough that we hear what he’s doing (depending on where he sets the volume of course).
One of the things he takes with him sometimes is other automated sound devices. Sometimes it’s a birthday card that sings, or a book that plays a song, or something else. He carefully places these items up on the chair, climbs up himself, dons his headphones, presses play, and then proceeds to DJ a concert for himself and for us. He rapidly opens and closes the singing cards to create what can only be described as the scratching of a turntable in terms of its rapid and rhythmic repetition. Is he a future DJ? I don’t know. Is he having fun with technology? I can proudly say that he is.