My son had his first piano recital on Sunday. He's been playing for two months now, and despite being inwardly nervous, he marched up the aisle to the piano and played his two selected pieces, Ode to Joy and Yankee Doodle.

I've gotta say, he hit 'em out of the park.

I love these recitals - my sister's students are all very supportive and game to try anything. We had everything from pint-sized pianists to senior citizens hammering out Fur Elise with determination. There were lots of false starts, wrong notes and embarrassed bows, followed by red-faced dashes back to the pews. It was wonderful to see all these student getting up there and doing their thing.

Of course, after playing second in the line up, my boy was completely worn out, and crashed out next to me.

Down the pew from me and piano boy, my five-year-old lay snoring between my parents, and my oldest sat with her hands over her ears, frowning.

Ah, classical music, how you soothe and rile! Personally, I have the utter inability to do anything else when I'm listening to classical - especially the stuff with lots of sharp brass, crashing percussion or any tension at all. Work? No. Function? Barely. I get very caught up in the music, and I'm totally one of those people who cries.

My kids? Sleep through it. Even when the teenaged rock band played a set. Ha!

I wonder if this is the true legacy of Baby Einstein?