Before B started school, a short nine months ago, I worried, unnecessarily of course, but like most first-time* mummies. I worried he didn't know enough letters, or recognise enough sounds, and he'd struggle in school, and be behind his peers, and, and, and...
(I didn't have similar worries about maths, for he is a maths genius, if I do say so myself...)
So imagine my delight these nine months later, when my worries have been blown out the water, completely unwarranted and unfounded.
He loves literacy lessons, gets excited when he gets new sounds, or common words.
He reads signs, posters, book covers, dvd boxes, backs of buses, anything, in fact, that he can.
He makes up nonsense words, because he knows they're nonsense words, not because he doesn't know any better.
He loves hearing silly poems and rhymes, as well as not-so-silly ones - he cut his little pinky finger the other day, and it reminded me of a Scots poem called The Sair Finger I remember having to recite in school, probably when I was not much older than B. It starts off like this:
You've hurt your finger? Puir wee man!
Your pinkie? Deary me!
Noo, jist you haud it that wey till
I get my specs and see!
I recited it to B, and he loved it, and now I have to recite it to him at least 3 times a day.
I recited it to B, and he loved it, and now I have to recite it to him at least 3 times a day.
He even came home today and asked "how do you say 'hello' in China?"
I said, "I don't know"
He said, "I do. You say ni hao".
Smarty pants.
Smarty pants.
My boy, maths genius and linguaphile.
(*and probably only-time mummy ...but that's a different story)
(*and probably only-time mummy ...but that's a different story)
Linking up this post with Just Write at The EO
and 5 for 5 at Momalom

