Discordant tones rang out through the house. My eardrums begged me for mercy. I found the boys seated at the old piano, pounding away at the keys.

“Hey, you two! That’s not how you play!” I tried to sound cheerful. I really wanted to drag them away to some other, quieter activity, but my conscience suddenly poked a sleepy part of my brain that made me feel obligated to make this a “teachable moment.”

“Pianos can be loud,” I played a loud chord, “or soft.” I played very quietly. “Can you play soft?” The boys practiced touching the keys softly.

“Good. Now, you must first learn to play with one key at a time, so use one finger, like this.” I played three notes, one at a time. I had them copy it. By the end of our lesson they could play a little song.

“Playing piano makes me hungry,” I hinted, “Who wants a snack?”

“MEEE!” chorused the two little pianists. As I poured milk and handed out cookies I felt I had done my ‘good parenting’ duty today.

Then I put in a DVD .

Hey, I earned my Mom time!