My son, Evan, plays the cello. He started in 5th grade, and thanks to the support of some great music teachers in the Whitefish Bay school district, he's really, really good. Evan's now a sophomore in high school, and already he's 2nd chair in the school orchestra! I'm very proud of him--proud because we encourage him to discover what he's passionate about and proud that he finds that passion. For Evan, passion takes the form of the cello, as well as drama and academics (he's already landed the lead in the high school play and is maintaining a 4.0 grade point average--lots of reasons why I should be proud of Evan).
But I'm not just proud of his accomplishments: I'm proud of the fact that my 15 year old son has such a strong sense of self-awareness. Proud that he chooses good friends--and that he is a good friend to them. Proud of the fact that he Skypes on a regular basis with his sister who's off at college creating her own sense of self-identity. Proud of his discipline. Proud of his ability to laugh at himself. And proud of how well he plays the cello.
I love hearing him practice. Having live cello music resonate throughout the 3 stories of our domicile is nothing more than auditory intoxication. In two years, he'll be off to college, and I'll miss listening to him practice Vivaldi and Mozart. So I better enjoy his music while I can--enjoy his good company while he's still living at home.