My toddler used to correctly answer “two”, when asked his age. But he was told that some other boys were four. Now he answers “five”, when asked about his age.
Tonight we played chess. His favorite part of the game is when I hide a black pawn in one fist, and a white pawn in the other and ask him to choose colors. We (mostly I ) set up the pieces. Sometimes we make a few moves. Then he runs the board over with one of his toy cars. This evening, he walked to the other room to get one, having mistakenly sat down to chess without it. Several times I started putting the pieces away, but he kept insisting that we play again. I was tired. We played several more times, and I, trying to wind things down, suggested we read a book. We went together to the other room, and returned with a book to sit on the sofa and read. He was more attentive than usual, really looking at every picture and listening. When we finished, he took the book and threw it. Then he said “more book”, and climbed off the sofa. “I’ll wait here,” I said. He ran to the next room, and returned with another, his smile beaming as he returned. When we’d read this one, he also threw it, and went for a third. This time he waved and said “goodbye”. “Goodbye,” I replied. “Will you come back?” “Yes,” he said. During the fourth book, he fell asleep on my shoulder. I continued reading, and then talking to myself when I reached the end of the book, until he seemed pretty sound asleep. Then I carried him into the bedroom from where he’d been getting the books. His mother was collapsed there on the bed, amid the toys she was putting away.
