Tuesday, December 22, 2009
Watching the Detective...
No, this is not the result of an accident, or domestic violence or anything in the slightest bit dreadful or awful (beyond the actual way I look in this picture!); this is what happens when you give your three year old unrestricted access to both a box of face paints and your own face.
Having this monstrosity inflicted upon me was one of the most enlightening things I've done in the past few weeks. My son spent 10 minutes concentrating intently on my face. I'm not sure I've ever been watched so closely for so long, it was, to be frank, a little odd for a moment or two. It was also an unparalleled chance to watch his face in natural repose the way his toys or his painting easel would see him. The utter stillness, the way he evaluated everything he was doing, every brush mark, every wipe, it was amazing - I highly recommend it.
Today we had another opportunity to watch him from behind a hide, as it were. He was being a bit difficult about going to bed so we decided it was our turn. We crawled under our covers and demanded milk (he brought us his bottle), teddies (he brought us ALL his toys) and a story. He brought three books to bed and read them all. It was great watching him concentrate on the pages, working things out. His face was completely different, his expressions very natural - no posing or mucking about or cajoling, just him focussing intently on one thing.
What was even cooler though was that he picked out an ABC book and while he's obviously only parroting back some elements, he was saying things like 'and this is 'eh' for 'egg' and this is 'geh for gate' and he seems to have picked up that letters have sounds and sounds make words which is possibly the best Christmas present he could give me.
That and, perhaps, another face painting... the next one possibly with a little more colour? Or am I asking too much?
Blurted by Sparx