Before my birthday or Christmas, my mother always informs me that she needs a wish list. When I was little (and by little, I mean age, not size…quit giggling) this meant flipping through the Sears catalog and writing down the page and product number of each item that I fancied. The standard items on the list always included Moon Shoes and one of those unnecessarily elaborate doll houses that I knew I would never use. I just liked the tiny furniture, and the tiny chandeliers that actually lit up. They made me feel like the Big Friendly Giant. I never got any of these things, but it’s probably because my mother knew that I didn’t actually want those things, but I just had high hopes of feeling like an astronaut or abnormally tall.
I also had wishes on my list that could not be found in the Sears catalog. The first, a baby grand piano and the second, a puppy. I got my puppy request on my ninth birthday when my parents bought our wonderfully yappy Zoe, but just like Kristi and the pony, I never got my baby grand piano. I used to dream of a shiny black Yamaha, but it has since changed to this one. Pardon me while I DROOL and WHIMPER. I’ve never had a “real” piano, and electric to baby grand seems like a logical step. Wouldn’t you agree?
I think I’ll start writing wish lists again, just so I can add the baby grand piano to the top of it. Or if you find a tiny baby grand piano that I can put in a pitcher of water, and it will grow to be living-room sized, let me know. I will not name it Horace, but I will find a suitable piano name, I promise. Maybe I’ll call it Elton?
P.S. I really hope you clicked on the piano link, Kerry.