Ben is now numerate. He can read numbers. It started with bus numbers--the 25, 43, and 48 are all buses we can take to get to his childcare--and has extended now far beyond! The 44, 45, 217, 74, and other buses are within his purview. He's making numbers up, too, and can read numbers that he hasn't heard me say, so it's not memorization.
I never thought of numeracy preceding literacy.
This evening Ben asks to see some pictures on the computer of himself and some other things. I say, sure, I'll show you on the little computer (the iPhone). He says, no, the big computer (the laptop). I say fine, and pull it down.
We start looking through photos:
Ben: Tap the picture with your little finger [gestures with his finger at the screen]
Daddy: Let's not touch the screen, Ben.
Ben: Tap the picture!
Daddy: [figuring it out] Ben, do you mean the finger on the little hand that changes from the arrow when I move over a photo?
Ben: Yes.
Ben has figured out the user interface. In Flickr, the arrow cursor is replaced by a "Mickey Mouse" hand (a white glove with four fingers, three curled and one pointing). Ben wanted me to "tap" (a good word) the picture with the gloved hand's "little finger."
Someone in
[Letter sent to head of the Seattle Monorail and director of operations]
My wife and I live in Seattle, and we had put off taking our 3-year-old on the monorail until there had been a good unbroken period of good service. Today, with my brother-in-law in town, we took our older son, my brother-in-law, and our 3-month-old on a trip from Seattle Center to Westlake Center.
On the return trip, we waited for 30 minutes for a train without any explanation. My wife finally went to the payment booth and asked what was up. The attendant explained that one of the trains had broken down and it would be 25 minutes before the next arrived.
My wife explained to the attendant that she might make an announcement. There was apparently no one else in authority present. The attendant, a non-native speaker, made two very quiet, inaudible announcements. We walked around
Like a rock against which the ocean slams for eons, finally wearing it down to a nubbin, pebbles, and sand, so, too, has Lynn finally taken up blogging after years of me doing so. Lynn is a marvelous writer, which I say not just because I'm married to her (although her email to me in our early dating demonstrated her considerable store of wit, charm, and intelligence). With three Fleishmans in the house, if Lynn is ever going to get a word in edgewise, she needs a forum.
In other news, power was fluctuating all over last night. At about 11.30 pm, when I had just managed to drop off, the power went out, silencing the "rain music" we use to help Rex sleep, turning off the A/C (which was mostly working as a fan), and turning off my CPAP. I got up and looked around through various
For dinner this evening, Ben ate like The Very Hungry Caterpillar.
He ate
many green beans
a piece of broccoli
fresh diced jicama
some bacon
three spoonfuls of flavored yogurt
dried roasted edamame
some potato chips (his "treat")
three mini pitas
cup of milk
Kaboom! Well, not yet.
Rex is a harder nut to crack. We started him on Zantac a couple of weeks ago, but it had only an initial effect, which soon wore off. Lynn tried eliminating dairy for a week, too, as that can be a reflux contributor. She's pretty careful
Lynn [showing Ben a Richard Scarry drawing of Paris]: That's Paris. People in Paris speak French.
Daddy: Watch this. [In Ben's ear] Ben, can you say green beans in French.
Ben: Green beans in French.
Daddy: Haricots verts.
Ben: Haricots verts.
Rex: Ah.
Perspective on our hospital delivery and stay last week.
To Lynn and I: We are in a hospital for a couple of days for Lynn to recover from her caesarean section. It's a comfortable room, and the care is great.
To Ben: Mommy and daddy, for reasons I don't need to know, are staying in a room that gives them an excellent view of a 15-story crane, and a massive construction site.
To Rex: Freedom, terrible freedom.
[somewhat abridged]
Mommy: Someday, your little brother [due in just over two weeks] will sleep in your room with you.
Daddy: In a separate bed.
Mommy: Will you like it when your little brother sleeps in the same room with you?
Ben [quietly]: Yes.
[pause]
Ben: Want him to sleep in a little tiny room. [All laugh.]
Mommy: We don't have a little tiny room!
Daddy: Where's our little tiny room?
Ben: There! [points wildly]
Daddy: Where?
Ben: In the living room! Over there! [points to behind a chair]
Mommy: In the television cabinet?
Ben: Yes.
Mommy: The baby is going to sleep in the TV cabinet?
Ben: Yes!
Daddy: And the baby can watch as much TV as he wants.
Ben: The baby is going to watch videos! [laughs and laughs; all laugh.]
Apparently, based on what Ben has been reciting the last couple of days, he is learning a song at day care called, "Eeble Weeble." The B side would be the comment he made this evening: "Most people ride on white dogs." We can't wait to hear the real song at a potluck next week.
I was leaving for work a few days ago, and had the following dialog with Ben.
Ben: Daddy's going to work in his workshop.
Me (slightly confused): How do you figure, Ben?
Ben: Daddy works in a workshop.
Me (looking at Lynn): Where do you know about workshops?
Ben: Mr. Fix It has a workshop. [Richard Scarry's Mr. Fix It.]
Me: Oh. Well, daddy doesn't have a workshop. Daddy works in a wordshop.
Ben: Wordshop.
Me: Daddy fixes words. I make and fix words.
Lynn: You don't exactly make words.
Me: Well, I put words together.
[eight hours later, on opening the door]
Ben: Did you fix words?!
(Format stolen from John Moe.)