Kate as a Poet

Kate's always been pretty bright linguistically. I will never forget at a well visit when she was about two years old and the nurse checking us in asked if she could say 50 words. I laughed. The child had been talking since we'd walked in the room and had undoubtedly passed the 50 words in the time the nurse had taken to ask the other developmental questions. I told her I had no idea her current number of words--I stopped counting at 100 shortly after she turned one.

She's learning to rhyme, spell, and sound out some short words now. It's a fun new development. She's also loving to do some word play. Occasionally she'll even use alliteration. And she's also discovered the fine art of modifying poetry to meet her own ends.

"Mary, Mary me,
How does Mama’s not garden grow?
Not with vegetables or flowers;
Only Daddy’s garden grows."

She's no Lord Byron or Keats, but it was pretty funny. I beg to have it known--there is no garden this year because we're moving and I was largely pregnant last year and I did pick some of the produce, I just didn't plant the garden. And my azalea and hanging basket are both blooming--okay enough defense.

Happy Friday!