On Monday evenings our precious piano teacher spends 2-1/2 to 3 hours in our home working with all five kids after his full-time job. He is one of the most precious people we know and we love him.

He is patient and firm and flexible and tolerant. He is unlike any piano teacher story I have ever heard. Did I mention patient.

So patient that he can listen to stories about failing to practice that include:

I had hiccups.

My hands told me they needed rest.

My mom didn’t write it in my lesson book.

And those are the kind and reasonable excuses.

There are only two areas I outsource – music and art. And art less and less with each passing month because I am growing more comfortable with learning and interpreting for myself and guiding the children to do the same.

But music… I appreciate music tremendously. That I can share. But Every Good Boy Does Fine and FACE and “Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star” in a very slow c-chord is all I’ve got when it comes to playing music.

And while there is no way we can compensate our piano teacher for his love and patience and dedication, I still try. I try by sharing dinner with him on these long Mondays of his.

But today I was unprepared. I planned nothing for dinner. And a hike with friends became a sit-and-knit on a rainy afternoon with friends. And dinner remained unplanned, unprepared and unmade.

The piano teacher arrived. The children began working. My Sister and her family left. Still no dinner.

And then I decided to make pasta and marinara and whipped out my trusty The Stocked Kitchen recipe book and made the marinara sauce. Mmmm.


A couple of pounds of pasta, some salad greens shared with us by our Dogwood Farm friends and dinner was ready for our family and our piano teacher in about 30 minutes.