The Pian-y-o

The cost of renovating a 1917 piano that was sitting in our garage covered in dust and spiderwebs, hopelessly out of tune, and missing some ivories and a pedal? Too much for Tim to stomach, given that neither of us are musical or can carry a tune.

But the sentimental value of the piano was too high for me to let it gather dust any longer in the garage, and I'm so glad it's been repaired, and moved inside the house once more. The piano bench has been a resting spot for many childrens' bottoms, including my grandma, 'Ma,' when she was a toddler, seven Field kids, and many, many Field grandchildren and great-grandchildren.

Seeing our own kids plunk at the keys, perform concerts and breathe new life into this very old piano is priceless. We may invest in lessons at some point, but for now, we're just focusing on correcting Joey and Clara's constant, multi-syllabic mispronunciation of the musical beast in our living room. 

In the meantime, the din and ruckus of our energetic musicians is a happy noise in our house  -- even when it threatens to interrupt nap time -- because I'm pretty sure that someone, somewhere is smiling over "The Pian-y-o's" new players.