It was my big fear. That my twin two-year old grandsons visiting from California would immediately head to the space under our baby grand piano and the piano, sensing that there was life beneath it, would become feeble and weak, and that one or both of the twins would nudge one of the piano legs which, up until now, have looked so sturdy and all the legs would fling themselves outward, crushing my grandsons in a pile of black and white keys and tangled piano strings.
Their mother would be furious at me.
I tried to articulate this to my daughter but without all the florid details. I’m worried that the piano will crush them, I told her. She looked at me as as if thinking she was right to have come cross country to do a mental health check-up on her mother.
Right, Mom, she thought. She didn’t say…
View original post 462 more words