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Pardon my scungy fridge for a minute and take a look at this arrow. I don't know if you can see them, but those little squares are individual magnets with Disney princesses on them. They came in a big sheet as part of a sticker book I gave to Precious Daughter as entertainment during a long ride. She separated the magnets and stuck 'em all over the fridge.
Mighty B is four and a half. He made this arrow pattern on our fridge about three weeks ago. Is this a common thing for a kid his age to do? Is it a sign of intelligence? Is he talking to aliens?
In his pre-K class, Mighty B is the youngest child, having made the birthday cutoff by a mere two weeks. He is the one that can't sit still; he is the one that hums while he works. His grades are excellent despite his behaviors. In truth, he is humming to tune out his teacher (and I know this because he does it to me). Mighty B has no patience for multiple repetitions of anything. After once or twice he's had enough instruction and he's ready to run.
Mighty B is frightfully good with his hands, assembling 100-piece puzzles and building towers out of anything he can find. He's good with sporting equipment. Once he gets his brute strength under control, I suspect he'll have a marvelous time tinkering with anything he can take apart.
He loves touching things. He has played with my hair ever since his infant hands could grab. he loves squashing the soap between his fingers, and loves making lots of foam with his bath scrubby. He loves different fabrics and our pets' fur. He does not like clothing tags. He hated having his hair cut today, but not because he fears the barber. No. He hates the itchy clippings on his skin.
Today, after a few minutes watching the workmen at the house next door as they collected wheelbarrowsful of wet concrete from the truck and roll it to the back yard, he retreated to our sandbox, pouring sand down the sliding board until it formed a pile at the bottom. He carefully smoothed the pile with the back of his shovel like the workmen did. I told him to put the sand back in the box when he finished. He might.
I am 41 years old, and I am no match with this child who is one-tenth my age.
1 comment:
Yes, I think this is common. I have a son who is 4 1/2 as well, born August 9th. Sounds like we're in the same boat.
I looked at your blog because I'm a court reporter too. I am curious about women my age, in my profession who also have small children. It's nice to know I'm not alone.
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