Monday, October 8
That Old Black Magic...
Car rides are the most fun thing EVER in my world right now.
Little O has discovered ten.
She has learned to add, and thinks it is a giggly magic trick each and every time you can give her an addition problem that she can figure out. This presupposes that you are adding numbers no larger than five. I forget occasionally and give her something like eight plus two. There's a pause as she begins counting, she can even get the eight on two hands, but then she is stymied because she is out of hands. I get the scold, but it's so funny.
How do I keep this magic alive? Math is magic and fun, and I don't want her to lose that. My mother loves math--the elegance and the straightforward answers. She wanted to be a math teacher, but my grandmother laughed and told her she would never earn a decent living as a teacher, she would be a nurse, like her mother. The math gene skipped a genereation--I am my father's daughter, and words are my enchantment. Numbers are little sharp toothed gremlins, nipping at my heels.
If Little O can have both Math and the Written Word, how glorious. It's all stretched out in front of her.