grand, baby

I bought my child a piano yesterday, just a plastic one for sixteen dollars. He mistakes it for a drum and wallops the keys with a drumstick; I don't know if it'll last the week.
"Your papa plays the piano, did you know that?" I say to the child. He pauses and looks at me. "Next time he comes, you can show him how you play the piano, too."
The banging starts up again with gusto, setting off the neighbour's dog, and in amongst it all, I can now hear the child murmuring to himself. "Papa, papa, papa," he says. "Papa, Papa, Papa."