Monday, November 9, 2009

Finally! Definitive proof that I am growing more stupider!

There's been this fear lurking in the back of my mind for, oh, about 20 years now that I am not as smart as I was as a child.  I vividly remember having a good memory.   Like when you had to read those 2 page articles during Library Time in elementary school about fascinating things like the history of pinwheels then answer 8 multiple choice questions.  Not only were the answers to the questions easy to remember, I could remember where on the page that information was and often the exact wording.  When I read books in junior high I didn't use a bookmark because it was simple to remember "I'm on page 243." 

Fast forward to today.  I think, "I'll remember I'm on page 243."  But 15 minutes later, when I pick the book back up I'm flipping aimlessly through it thinking, "Does this page sound familiar? Have I read that??? Is this even the right book?" 

Since my memory is coming into question, it makes me wonder if I'm actually remembering my childhood correctly.  Was it really so easy to remember things then?  Well, recently I had proof that it was.

Big D has foam letters that stick to the side of the bathtub.  He has one of each letter and each one is one of four colors.  Or maybe 5 colors.  It is sad that I don't know how many colors the letters are when you hear the rest of the story. 

So the other night D was telling us about the letter of the day on Sesame Street and decided, as is his usual teaching method, he needed to get us a visual aid.  Mid-sentence he runs off to the bathroom interrupting himself with, "OH!  I will show you the letter of the day!" and we hear him rummaging around in the bath letters.  A minute or two later he comes out grunting and lugging the entire box of letters. 

"Mommy, can you help me find the letter of the day?  The letter of the day is the letter F."

Amused I take the box and start to shuffle letters around.  "What color is the F?" I say, not really expecting an answer.


And there it is, a purple F.  "Huh," I think, "Good guess kid."  Always curious to test the limits of my child's intellect I say, "What color is the L?"


"The M?"


And so on through the entire alphabet.  He got everyone right.  Color me impressed.  Apparently when he looks at something, he actually sees what it looks like as opposed to me who files it under "colored foam letter."   Still interested in testing I say, "Stand way over there and tell me what color the magnet letter F is on the fridge."


Yes, you guessed it, all the way through that alphabet of colored letters.  And these are not the kid's favorite toys.  They are things he tinkers with now and then. 

"How many penguins are there in your number book?" "Seven."  "Did Calvin have a hat on at the Conservation Department?"  "No mommy, Belvedere did."  "What did Telly's favorite triangle look like on Sesame Street last week?" "It was gold with a big boulder on it."  Ok, granted I'm not sure what that means, but I'd imagine if we saw it, it might make sense.  All I remember is that Telly had some triangles (three maybe?) and one of them was his favorite.  Unfortunately Cookie Monster turned it in to a cookie with his cookie touch.  But don't worry, it all got sorted out in the end. 

So all the propaganda about teaching children to "live up to their potential" is pretty much crap.  They're at the peak of their game right now.  It's all downhill from here.  Good thing we learn to read and write so we can jot ourselves sticky notes to prop up our failing memories. 

Oh shoot, forgot I was going to sew a turkey shirt while Belvedere is asleep -

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