Over the past three months you have evolved in so many ways. For starters, you have become a 2-D artist. Ironic, to say the least, since you attend an arts-based school. You have always enjoyed taping, gluing, and cutting - crafting all sorts of items. But you have never been much for pencil and paper. You spent most of your first year in the Oak Tree Kindergarten covering much of your coloring paper with all sorts of colors - but with little form.
Two days ago, you were at your friend's house and she had sidewalk chalk. You set to work immediately drawing an enormous train - complete with train cars, couplings, and wheels. You repeated the feat on our own driveway on Monday afternoon. It was a true sight to behold.
You're very interested in letters - and have become quite good at looking at them and then drawing the ones you don't already know how to draw. I try and point out that there are two types of lines - curves and straights - which is the way writing is typically taught in a Waldorf school. This seems to make sense to you, and it won't be long before you can write all of your letters without looking at a sample.
Numbers. Numbers. Numbers. You continue to be my little math nerd. As I'm sure I've said before, you come by it honestly. At just about the point you stopped asking about all sorts of math concepts, Helen started. Did I mention that I am going to lose my mind soon? A very important math skill is the concept of fractions. It used to be taught in 4th grade, and it was considered by many to be a make or break skill. Those that intuitively understood fractions, tended to have an easy path with math. Those that had difficulty with the concept would likely continue to struggle and not be very math oriented. The concept is so important, that public schools largely decided it needed to be taught even earlier. That thinking, in my mind, is somewhat backwards. The reasoning goes, teach a skill earlier and kids will have more time to learn it and know it better. My thinking is more along the lines of - wait until someone is really ready to absorb a concept, and they'll likely struggle with it less, leading to a more satisfying result.
This is not the case with you. At age 5 you have a more than strong grasp of fractions. You can divide your pizza in quarters, request half a quarter and know it is an eighth, request two quarters and know it is half, etc. It's just your thing. It makes me breathe easier. You impressed even me when on vacation and we were playing a game. I asked you various questions about a dinner party and the number of people attending in various iterations. At one point, there were seven people left at the table and I told you half of them had to leave the room immediately. You told me that meant there were either 3 or 4 left. Nice work.
You have finally discovered the freedom of a bike. You love to ride yours to the park (accompanied by an adult) and you also love hopping on the back of Dad's trailer bike and pedaling behind him. It's possible to go pretty far this way.
You also proved to be a pretty awesome skier while on vacation. You were so confident and impressed with yourself, that you decided to cut through some trees as I followed behing worrying that soon your head would be part of those trees. After that trip, I had to make a new rule "mommy doesn't not ski in trees".
My friend Susan remarked to me recently that in many ways, parenting is about letting go. It's about allowing your children to do something without the presence of a parent, and trust that it will work out. Her view, which I share, is that today's parents (in general) spend too much time micro-managing their children's lives, and the end result is not positive for children. She mentioned this in the context of public school. The gist of her argument was that public school is a place for parents to let go. Two things have happened since then to cause me pause regarding my laissez faire attitude.
- You and Helen often play in our backyard and next door, without direct supervision. I'm inside preparing dinner, cleaning up, or trying to accomplish something else. A couple of weeks ago, I glanced outside the window to see that you and Helen were ON TOP OF THE SHED. This was not good. While you can probably balance up there (although it is still incredibly stupid!), Helen is doomed to tumble down. It turns out, Helen had a lot of assistance to get up there (which is annoying, because I'm a big believer in my sister's rule of "if you can do it - you can do it" - and Helen never could have gotten up there by herself, putting her in a dangerous position). It also turns out that you scraped your hand, ended up with a painful infection that resulted in a course of antibiotics, and I suspect I won't have to worry about this for a while. I'm quite glad I did not have to be the parent to accompany you to the pediatrician's office and explain that you injured your hand while climbing unsupervised on a roof.
- You were similarly outside a couple of days ago. You and Helen decided to go into a little space beneath our porch and and lock the door to it behind you. I then heard two children shouting "Mommy!" and when I came to see what the fuss was about, I discovered you trapped beneath our porch. You explained that you were pretty sure you could unlock it from the inside, but that turned out to not be true.
My mind has been weighted down heavily with another parenting thing related to "letting go". Parts of the world terrify me. Katie Granju, a well-known attachment parenting advocate, has been documenting her son's drug addiction that ultimately resulted in his death. In painful detail, she has uncovered much of what happened in the 48 hours leading to the hospitalization that would end in Henry Granju's death, and every point in the story is devastatingly awful. And all I can keep thinking is that if it happened to Katie Granju's beloved child, it can happen to anyone's child. So while I want to let go and allow you to immerse yourself in your next school, it's scary. Rationally or not, it feels like a gateway to a very unprotected world. I hope I'm wrong about this one entirely, and that school continues to hold you safely for many years to come.
I could not possibly count the number of times your dad or I have said that these past few months have been easy. You're just in a very agreeable stage, and that makes being your parent quite easy.
Love,
Mommy
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