Today we baked a cake.
Buttercup is a pro at breaking eggs. And I don’t mean throwing them on the floor or at the neighbor’s car. She can snap those suckers open and slide those perfect yolks into the bowl with a pool of shell-free whites like nobody’s business. She and Bubba participate in as much cooking as I can tolerate in the kitchen – they think it’s fun and I want them to learn to cook, so we’re talking about a serious win-win activity. In fact, I was talking to Buttercup about this today as we mixed up the cake. I told her all about how one day she will learn to cook so well that she can cook a whole dinner by herself for our family.
“Oh.” She didn’t look impressed.
Now, I am quite serious about this. One of my official goals for my kids’ education (homeschooled or not) is that they will be moderately competent in the kitchen. By the time they are teens, I expect each of them to be in charge of dinner for the whole family at least one night a month. Should be interesting, right?
So I went on explaining the sorts of things she will be able to cook and then I told her that she wasn’t the only one. Bubba – who was busy sticking his fingers in the batter - was going to have to learn to cook, too.
“One day Bubba be able to make a whole dinner all by himself,” I told her. “Won’t that be great when he can cook dinner for us?”
Buttercup considered this. She tipped her head a bit to the side. Her eyes crinkled up. Something intense was going on behind those fluffy black lashes.
“Mommy? Can I marry Bubba?”
“Umm, no.”
“Why not?”
What followed was a very strange conversation about why girls can’t marry their brothers which eventually ended with me telling her that she just can’t, that’s all. I think I told her that when you get married you add somebody new to the family and that brothers are already in the family, so they don’t qualify . . . or something along those lines. Not exactly a question I was prepared for. But even in my awkward-question-stupor I could recognize my girl’s brilliance. She heard that Bubba will be able to cook, and wanted to marry him. What woman doesn’t want a husband who can throw down a decent dinner all by himself now and then?
Maybe, about twelve years from now, when my boys complain about having to learn to cook, I’ll use this argument. Bubba will be fourteen by then.
“You want girls to like you?” I’ll ask. “Then get your hiney in the kitchen, son.”
Maybe it will work. Maybe not. Either way, it’s time Bubba learned how to break open some eggs himself. Buttercup will be glad to teach him.
Saturday, February 19, 2011
Thursday, February 3, 2011
The Secret Lives of Vowels
Today I learned that W is sometimes a vowel. Did you know that? I’m pretty sure I’d never heard of such a thing before. But there it was in the primer for today’s lesson, in black and white, complete with a concise and very clear explanation. I had known that Y is sometimes a vowel, but I had always assumed that it was just a way to excuse the naughty little words that didn’t have any real vowels in there. Turns out there is a real reason for it, and rules for when it applies, and all that juicy stuff to learn around the school table.
The biggest lesson that I have learned from our phonics lessons with Buttercup is that, as a student, I never learned to read phonetically. I am not quite sure how I learned to read at all, in fact, except that I was read to a lot and that I went to school not really understanding why other kids didn’t know how to read already. There is a vague memory from Kindergarten when my teacher would pull me and a couple of other kids out of naptime for a Dick and Jane session – but that comes more from my mother telling me that it happened than from actual remembering. I do remember first grade, when I and a boy in my class had to walk across the kickball courts to a second grade classroom to join their reading lesson – but I don’t remember the lessons so much as the embarrassment of having to walk anywhere with a BOY. (Bless his heart.)
Speaking of walking, a few weeks ago I learned from a Netflix video that when two vowels go walking the first one does the talking. I was intrigued. The video was timed to coincide with our introduction to vowel pairs and, while the same concept was covered in our primer, they never used that catchy little rhyme. As we’ve progressed through the lessons, I’ve discovered why. There are so many exceptions to that “rule” that the authors of our little lesson book seem to think it’s better to just teach each vowel pair separately. I think I agree. When I tried to help Buttercup by reminding her of that walking and talking rhyme, we were immediately confused by all of the endless exceptions. That’s what we get for stereotyping. Just because some vowel couples like the first one to do all the talking, doesn’t mean they all have relationships like that, does it? And if the W wants to moonlight as a vowel? By all means, let him.
The biggest lesson that I have learned from our phonics lessons with Buttercup is that, as a student, I never learned to read phonetically. I am not quite sure how I learned to read at all, in fact, except that I was read to a lot and that I went to school not really understanding why other kids didn’t know how to read already. There is a vague memory from Kindergarten when my teacher would pull me and a couple of other kids out of naptime for a Dick and Jane session – but that comes more from my mother telling me that it happened than from actual remembering. I do remember first grade, when I and a boy in my class had to walk across the kickball courts to a second grade classroom to join their reading lesson – but I don’t remember the lessons so much as the embarrassment of having to walk anywhere with a BOY. (Bless his heart.)
Speaking of walking, a few weeks ago I learned from a Netflix video that when two vowels go walking the first one does the talking. I was intrigued. The video was timed to coincide with our introduction to vowel pairs and, while the same concept was covered in our primer, they never used that catchy little rhyme. As we’ve progressed through the lessons, I’ve discovered why. There are so many exceptions to that “rule” that the authors of our little lesson book seem to think it’s better to just teach each vowel pair separately. I think I agree. When I tried to help Buttercup by reminding her of that walking and talking rhyme, we were immediately confused by all of the endless exceptions. That’s what we get for stereotyping. Just because some vowel couples like the first one to do all the talking, doesn’t mean they all have relationships like that, does it? And if the W wants to moonlight as a vowel? By all means, let him.
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