Today I watched my five year old explaining to his preschool friend how to snap. It’s one of those accomplishments like learning to whistle that seems small and insignificant at first glance. But I remember lying in bed as a kid, sorting out which finger to use and how much pressure. I made the classic rookie mistake of thinking it was my index finger for much longer than I care to admit.

It was important to me that I figure out how to do it, because it was something that could only be accomplished by me. Sure, someone could tell me the mechanics of it, but there was a science to making it work.

The first few snaps were barely louder than the smack of a lip, but it sounded like a crackle of lightening to my ears. I had no consistency in terms of getting a snap every time, or even the quality of the sound, but I was snapping my fingers.

Whistling was similar in that it was a progression of mastery. At first, pleasure is derived from just making a tone that sounds like the wind whipping through the trees, or an owl with a sore throat. For a week my whistle consisted of two notes, one created by inhaling, and the other by exhaling.

The next big leap is to try and make a tune. I’m guessing that most kids from my generation and the one before had two tunes that they tried to tackle: Spoonful of Sugar and the theme from The Andy Griffith Show. In my head, I nailed them at performance hall levels. In reality, you couldn’t tell them apart from the Happy Birthday tune.

My six year old knows how to whistle. I suspect that in a few weeks after snapping confidence is built, the five year old will approach him for some tips on making sweet lip music. But for now, he’s happy exploring the world of snapping and sharing his newfound knowledge with his friend.

As for me, I’m an adult now, so small but significant challenges are behind me now. I am a mature grown up with no time for things like that.

If you need me, I’ll be working on the next level of Angry Birds.