I’m going to give you a much-deserved break in my pelvic floor posting in order to post about something I try not to talk about too much in real life. I try not to talk about it, because when I do, it sounds like bragging.
Cakie can read.
I was in no rush to see the boy read. I knew in my heart of hearts that he would have no trouble reading and that there was no need to rush. But his old-school daycare pre-K teacher pounded some sight words into him. He’s known the sounds (many of them) that letters make for ages. Put them both together and the boy can read. By “read” I mean, he can sound out words that can be sounded out. But now — and this is extremely cool for someone who works with second and third-graders, who, if they haven’t figured out reading yet are really struggling to do so — he’s totally synthesizing and using context to make sense of things without even being told. It is so neat to watch. He just does things that I have to teach older kids. He just does them. And I’m sure this is what 85% of kids actually do, but I never get to see it in action.
So of course I have a few funny stories.
My favorite was when we were in a drug store and he picked up a cute little box of tampons and said, “Mommy, can you buy me some ahb?”
“No, sweetie, I really don’t think you need that o.b.”
“But I love my little ahb. [Rubs box against face.]”
Actually, that’s the only cute story I can think of at this very moment. But it is pretty darn cute.