When Littlest Boy knows not what to do with his surges of emotional energy (of which there is a great many in the kind of life lived by Littlest Boy), he runs to the couch (the one against the wall) and does endless handstands on it.
His concepts of time are imprecise, but what he does understand is that today is Tuesday. And that means there’s no more Tuesdays until he starts school. And when he starts school, he will learn to read. And then, I won’t be the only one who can’t read, won’t I?
If you visit, you can sit on the other lounge. After you’ve made me a cup of tea.
He can’t read?
Haven’t you been doing flashcards since he was in the womb? How have you been holding your head up at mother’s groups?
White with one?
He can’t read, because he Doesn’t Want To. That’s the kind of person he is. However, I now know that he can read lots of things, because we were at the cinema the other day and he said: H. O. Y. T. S. What does that mean? That’s the kind of person he is.
weak, black, no sugar…suse, you’re a treasure…and I bet you’ve got one of those four-cup cakes in your bag, no?