Why, mommy, why?

It's likely that my future unborn children will resent me for the rest of their not-yet-existent lives. But I'm OK with that because they are going to be child prodigies. I am going to live vicariously through them and they are going to like it.\nMy mother once speculated that maybe I would be smarter if I hadn't fallen down the stairs when I was a small child. My parents seemed satisfied when I developed motor skills, but I think I should've been handed a musical instrument as soon as I emerged from the womb, if not sooner.\nWith the advancement of medical technology, I'm hoping my children will be proficient in at least one musical instrument before they've reached the third trimester. I started learning how to play the clarinet when I was in the fourth grade, but had I been a fetus, think about how much better I would be today!\nLittle chilluns are never daunted by a challenge. They haven't yet been jaded by this cruel, cruel world. That's why they all hold hands and sing, "We are the world, we are the children." They aren't scared of failing. And that's why the essence of youthful exuberance should be milked for all that it's worth.\nMy frustration is rooted in the beginning guitar class I'm taking this semester. Maybe that fateful staircase fall is to blame for this, but when I was a youngster, I just said, "Wheee, music!" I never once considered the painstaking challenge that is mastering an instrument.\nNow I look at the guitar and I see a finite math problem gone horribly awry. Taking into consideration the seemingly infinite combination of notes, chords, fingerings and strumming patterns, the probability of me ever fully understanding this piece of wood is zero. I should've started guitar before I even knew the meaning of the word "probability."\nI'm old. It's too late for me. But maybe there's hope for my children. If they grow to be musical geniuses, some of my chromosomes will be able to share in the glory. I'll take what I can get.\nLet's face it, just because you're a talented musician doesn't mean you're rolling in the bucks. (And vice versa.) So my kids will have to be smart too, really smart. And by really smart, I mean really successful. And by really successful, I mean having a nice economic cushion for Mommy to rest upon during her twilight years.\nI don't want to end up in a third-rate nursing home being fed generic pudding and being told that it's crème brûlée (which is my plan for my folks.) \nI'm sure there will be times I have to motivate my children by saying, "The more you achieve in life, the more money you will make, and the more money you make, the more Mommy will love you."\nMaybe you think they'll end up in therapy for years because Mommy pushed them too hard. But perhaps you're missing out on the big picture here. They'll be able to afford the pricey therapy bills.\nOf course there's always the possibility that the overbearing mother will be shunned from her children's lives forever. In that case, I'll just write them out of my will. Granted they may not need what's left of my petty estate, but they'll realize they never would've been so successful had I not robbed them of their childhood.\nIn the meantime, while I'm not spawning little Beethovens to release into the world, I can struggle along with my guitar in vain. If you ever see an inspirational poster, perhaps with a picture of a puppy on it, that says something uplifting like, "Don't take your failure out on your children," buy it. You know who needs it.