It's a terribly dull and rainy Wednesday. I've cooped them up because I'm not feeling great and they've done well to entertain themselves for the most part of the day.
My eldest child is eating frozen blueberries by the spoonful. I am sitting beside him at the kitchen table when he turns to me and he asks me what 3 plus 3 is.
"Well I know what the answer is. You tell me what 3 plus 3 is."
He turns away from me but I can see him holding up 3 fingers, specifically his middle, ring and pinky, on each hand. Two five year old awkward ok hand signals. With the middle finger on each hand he carefully counts quietly and determinedly.
He turns to me with a blueberry stained triumphant smile. "It's six!"
"Very good! You're right. I love that you love learning so much buddy."
His little brother speaks up from the floor a few feet away counting brightly coloured plastic coins, "I don't like a learn!"
"Yes you do Finley."
The love of learning is innate in every child I believe. I wonder where that love happens to go when middle school and high school hits...I suppose some still do but others - most - get derailed by hormones and social lives.
God I hope my boys aren't anything like me in high school.
"No I said I don't like mermaids."
Oh good. Oh. What? Oookay.
Wait. How did we go from math to mermaids in less than 2 minutes?
Adrian is still gobbling up frozen blueberries and he turns to me with a big knowing smile and an imperceptible shake of the head as if he just read my mind.
Sometimes I think he can.
I laugh, "Adrian your mouth is entirely blue. Go look in the mirror and see what you look like."
He runs off as Finley stands from his spot on the floor, walks toward me in all his 3 year old buddha bared belly glory and asks me for a bowl of the same of-course.
My hand instinctively reaches out to stroke his soft, delicious bared tummy as I rise to oblige.