Uh, Liam sea cow

I started piano lessons when I was in the 4th or 5th grade. My mother paid this 90 year old man to come to our house once a week to instruct me in the ways of the piano. He was literally 90. I remember because some time after a lady replaced him as my teacher. She was his protégé, his former student and I suspected, also his lover. She told us that he was so old he could no longer drive anywhere because he was so old he couldn't be trusted behind the wheel of a car.
Anyway, I digress. It all started with the 90 year old man.
I remember the very first lesson.

"What's two plus two?" he asked me as we sat side by side in front of the piano.

"Four" I replied a little unsure of whether it was a trick question.

"And what's four plus two?" he continued.

"Six" I stated, more confidently.

"Yes. Yes! Then you can play the piano!" he said mystically.

Yeah, he was a freak. And yes, he is definitely dead by now. But he had created this method of teaching people to read sheet music and play the piano by some mathematical code. It made no sense to me then, so I can't try to make sense of it now. But it was like, if there's a note on the bar, and the next note is two spaces higher on the bar, then a quaver is equal to two, and those two spaces make it four, so you play four notes higher, and hit four keys for every two quavers.
That was how it sounded to my young innocent ears. And those young innocent ears also died that day. From then on my ears were jaded, bitter and cynical. Because I could not process the information on the sheet music into fluid hand movement over the keys, I sat there solving complex mathematical equations in complete silence. And that was when I started to hate the piano. And I still hate the piano. To this day, I cannot fathom the sheer mass of available keys translated to tiny dots on a piece of paper and then delegated between two hands that must move simultaneously yet independently to form music.
I played the trumpet in primary school. That was simpler. But the piano had already poisoned music for me. And to this day, I swear that I will never play a musical instrument. And if I ever have kids and they dream of someday composing intricate concertos and playing toe-tapping melodies in the school band, I will punish them. I will tear their dreams from them and sew the stolen dreams onto a dead rat, then flush that rat down the toilet. I will protect my kids from music at all costs.