Hard work should be rewarded.
Ideally, the hard work should be intrinsically motivated - the satisfaction of doing a good job and knowing it was done well being the prize - without any external carrots dangling above.
But when dealing with kids, I've learned this concept is sometimes a foreign one.
Two of my piano students (uh-hum, my only piano students) were challenged, by me, to learn to read all of the notes on the staff. You can't learn to read a book if you don't know your letters. Same is true in piano. Not knowing how to read the music staff makes for a difficult time playing Tchaikovsky.
I promised these two students (uh-hum, my only piano students) that we would go out for ice cream once they learned their notes. I did inform them that, as a former school teacher and currently the meanest piano teacher in the continental U.S., I was going to be tough when deciding whether or not they had, indeed, reached their goal. They had to rip through those flash cards as though their mellifluous lives depended on it.
I'm pleased to say that this week that goal was reached. Thanks to Elephants Get Big Dirty Feet, F.A.C.E., Good Boys Deserve Fudge Always, and All Cows Eat Grass, these two sweet girls accompanied me today to get some premium dairy indulgence.
The minute we walked in the door, the smell of waffle cones and gourmet cookies welcomed us. The ice cream case was lined with a wide range of flavors. A separate case contained Italian Gelato and Sorbets. Free samples were offered.
I sampled Chocolate Hazelnut. Fresh Coconut. Amaretto. Passion Fruit. Strawberry Lemonade Sorbet.
(Hey, there were no posted signs confining the number of samples to be consumed. My over analyzing is not limited to major life decisions, folks.)
I told the girls - sisters actually - that they could have whatever they wanted. Waffle cones, waffle cups, old fashioned sundaes, mix-ins, cookie sundaes, shakes, floats. Their hard work was much appreciated and their reward, if they so chose, could be grand enough to induce a sugar coma.
The younger of the two stepped up first. She had eyed the almost-fluorescent-pink-and-yellow ice cream affectionately named Cotton Candy.
"That's the one I want," she smiled.
I inquired about a waffle cone.
"I don't like waffles." More smiling.
Rather than point out the difference between a breakfast waffle and the ones on display in the shop (which are technically just a glorified ice cream cone), I just decided to be mute.
"Any toppings?" I encouraged.
"Um......................I want Nerds."
My gag reflex tickled slightly at this moment because I am a texture person. Food textures mean a lot to me and if the wrong combination is presented in my mouth - no matter how delicious the flavors - I can't partake.
I grinned at our ice cream artisan standing behind the counter patiently waiting for our order.
"I want caramel sauce too," she quietly added.
"Whipped cream and a cherry?"
"Yes, please."
Her older sister ordered the identical sundae - Cotton Candy ice cream, Nerds, whipped cream and a cherry - only she opted for raspberry sauce rather than caramel.
I ordered the Strawberry Lemonade Sorbet.
Their young palates thoroughly enjoyed their creations. They ate every last bite and didn't once notice the melancholy melty colors of the moistened Nerds.
(I wonder if Tchaikovsky ever ate Cotton Candy flavored ice cream?)
POST NOTE: This motivational tool for learning to read all of the musical notes on the staff will be available to any piano students that I have.
I have a few openings, uh-hum, if you know anyone who might be interested.
Being the youngest, he is spoiled rotten. He gets away with far too much. Why? Because he has 5 family members who love him to the core and are at his constant disposal, and because mom and dad are worn out and find it easier to give in than to hold out. 
