The author's husband, playing for Millie.I often catch my multiply disabled daughter Millie in this pose: leaning forward in her rocker and staring at her lap, frowning.
My husband stands four feet from her, picking the first notes of a blues riff on his electric guitar. Millie smiles faintly when she recognises the clip-clop of the beat. As the G chord gives way to the C, and back to the G, she grins and sets her chair swinging. Next comes D, with its strong pull back to the opening note, and she snorts and cackles as my husband finishes the riff.
Sometimes, when he walks past Millie, he just hums the riff – ba-bum ba-bum ba-bum ba-bum – and the simple rhythm sung out loud makes her explode with laughter. I remarried a year ago, and Millie hasn’t known my husband long. But she still gets the joke.
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English (US)