Poohsticks

For a couple weeks I have been reading to Big Bro from The House at Pooh Corner. It baffles me that he is interested in it, because A.A. Milne's writing is much more complex than the kinds of things we expect three-year-olds to follow. One of the first stories I read to him was the one in which Pooh invents the game of Poohsticks. They drop sticks off one side of the bridge, then go over to see whose floats out the other side first. One time, the sticks don't come, but then out floats Eeyore who had fallen into the water much farther up the river.

A simple plot, but it's not written as straightforwardly (is that a word?) as that. Afterwards, Big Bro acted out the game of Poohsticks just as it happened in the story: he dropped his stick off one side of the bridge, went over to the other side, and I asked if it had come out the other side, and he said, "Yes, but it's Eeyore!" I always knew there would be a time when his comprehension astounded me. This is the first. A momentous day!

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

"...for babies grow up, we've learned to our sorrow..."

The other day at (you guessed it) the library, the boys and I were back in the board book section when I turned around in panic to see Big Bro walking quickly past the children's tables toward the exit, book in hand. He was saying something to me in his usual quiet voice, and the low buzz from the packed kids' section made it impossible for me to hear him. I sprinted after him, leaving Little Bro alone in the baby book area, fully expecting to return later to see every single book on the floor. I caught up with Big Bro quickly; he was just reaching the end of the children's section, and I asked him where he was going. "I'm yooking for an empty table," he said. What an eye opener. My child is no longer the unpredictable toddler who runs out of the building with no warning. He is now the little boy who chooses a book and goes to find a table so he can sit and read. I am ridiculously proud of him, but it's bittersweet seeing him grow up. Soon enough no one wi
Read more

Exodus

In nine days Daddy will receive a kidney transplant, and my world will change drastically. Although I should be leaping for joy, I am terrified. God wants to lead us out of Egypt, but I, foolishly, like Israel, prefer slavery to the unknown. A similar drastic and terrifying change happened three years ago, though I didn't know it was coming then. Daddy's kidneys failed, and our carefree (as much as you can call life with a six-week-old carefree) existence failed as well. Now I had a newborn to care for and a very sick husband whom I could no longer serve the tasty, healthy meals I had just become good at preparing, but only white bread/rice, bland meat, lettuce, candy, and mayonnaise. Then there were his 5 or 6 twice-daily prescription medications. How were we going to pay for this? We figured out the diet well enough, and the vast majority of the meds were covered by insurance. After a year, we started daily home dialysis, and he felt much healthier. He was even able to eat a
Read more

Banned word: "Proverbial"

I guess so many people learned in 7th grade English not to use cliches, but still really wanted to use cliches, that they got ahold of the word "proverbial" and had a party all over all of the books. I normally don't have a problem with non-wrong things in other people's writing. Wrong things like "I could care less" and "tied there shoes" are distracting. "She spilled the proverbial beans" is not wrong, but isn't it really just prolonging the cliche by smashing an excuse-me-but-I-must-use-this-cliche-but-I'm-using-the-word-proverbial-so-you-see-I'm-acknowledging-it's-a-cliche-so-it's-okay extra word into it? If you want to use a cliche, please just use it proudly without adding that pompous extra word to it. If you can't, good! Think of a better way to express your point.
Read more