Monday, February 21, 2005
How'd you get so smart?
Who am writing this too? Why do I feel like this blog has turned into an archive or a recap or something?
Jeez. Anyway, the reading thing came to mind today as I was watching Ella read a book to Nicola. At age 4, she is the only one in her class reading, and I try not to puff out my chest too much as I proclaim this. Damn, my kid is smart! But I knew that. The brain is so incredible -- to watch it grow and develop and morph inside this little body. She sits there, and as she turns to a new page and scans the pictures to get the context, then tackles the words. I don't think the process is quite this conscious, but it's cool to watch. I'm so proud of her! And I'd like to claim some of the brain credit for this side of the family. I've always been confident in my intelligence...although I think I've coasted a bit on the belief that my smarts would carry me through in the end. In fifth grade at Little Elementary in Arvada, Colo., Mr. Rold -- a 1950s throwback with brill-creamed hair and dark-rimmed glass -- sat in the class in order of how smart he judged them. Yes, informal class rankings in fifth grade. No soft handling of the 10-year-old self-esteem for Mr. Rold. Where did I sit? First seat, first row. Top dog, if you will. And I never have really felt like I deserved that -- I mean, shortly after we sat in this arrangement, we had some history project to do, and I threw together (at the last minute) the sorriest excuse for a diorama of the Alamo or something...inside a large Scott paper goods box (the kind we used to get each Xmas from my Mom's Aunt Minnie before some trivial family slight caused her to stop sending the toilet paper and party napkins, not to mention my $5 birthday check). I may or may not have used army men. And if memory serves, Mr. Rold videotaped these class presentations. I will never seek public office, for fear that the video of my toilet paper box Alamo, circa 1979, will be dredged up. I don't really remember much else about fifth grade. Was that when I had my first crush, on a girl named Sheri (Shari) who had a bizarre way of writing the letter "s"...which I subsequently copied slavishly to impress her? Another public office problem -- the letter "s" in my handwriting of this period has an odd straight top to it...vaguely "SS" like if one were to take it totally the wrong way. And me with a Jewish daughter! She's confused enough, what with the "Little People Nativity Scene" we were given at Christmas. I'm not sure whether to set up the manger or look for a firetruck or talking farm for them to play in.
I went far afield from books...but I have always loved reading, and picking out books for Ella now is so fun, because I run across these ones that have such strong childhood memories for me:
- "Mike Mulligan and his Steam Shovel"
- "Where the Wild Things Are"
- "Go Dog Go"
- "Harry the Dirty Dog"
We went to a bookstore today to find a book for Ella to give to her classroom on her upcoming birthday, and I swear I could spend $50 easy every time I walk in a bookstore. Maybe $100 -- $50 on me, $50 on Ella. And Nicola -- she's almost as bad. So despite our recent come-to-jesus on the budget, we dropped $42 -- on Ella's birthday book, on "Dry" which we both want to read, and on a new book for the baby that Ella picked out. I have rediscovered the library and am trying to focus my reading energy there.
I can't wait until Ella gets to some of the books I went nuts over in elementary school: the Great Brain series, Hardy Boys, the Littles, Gentle Ben (I swear I read this 20 times; it may be the only reason I know that a "seine" is a type of net used to catch salmon...isnt' it?). I should get out the box of old books from the garage soon and check out what's in there. Maybe some that Ella will be ready for before too long. I recently read her the personalized alligator book that my grandmother gave me when I was little -- 5 maybe, Billy Taggart of 49 Dean Road, Wayland, Mass. With friends Phil Aberbach (who lived next door) and Kathy (sister).
This entry feels more like what I'm trying to do -- a mixture of observation and recollection, with a somewhat sideways glance. My brain just isn't trained yet to watch for the moments that spark such a gush of words and memories.
No baby yet...obviously. I won't go into what Michelle said tonight, with a very negative tone, about "looks like maybe they (the baby and Ella) will be sharing a birthday." God -- so fucking negative. The odds are still against it, but so what? Ella doesn't seem to care, and I've given her every chance to express her feelings on this. Michelle is entitled to her opinion...but why say it front of Ella? Why put that negative emotion in her head? Things with the ex could be so much worse, I must remind myself. And dump the anger and focus on the positive: happy healthy wife, baby, household.
: 7:20 PM << Home
