When I got home, I hugged my son and told him he didn’t have to be perfect—he just needed to enjoy making music. His face lit up. The next week, he asked if I could take him again, and this time he walked into class smiling. Watching him strum his guitar with joy made me understand something important: sometimes children cry not because they’re unhappy, but because they’re learning, stretching, and finding courage. From that day on, our house filled with music—notes of love, patience, and pride echoing in every corner.
