With his newfound love of letters, which seems to intensify every day, a sharp interest in new words has taken hold. “Boots?” he asks, when I offer that we go for a walk outside. Boots, coat, hat, socks, shoes, shirt, pants. Yesterday, crackers and peaches were added to his growing vocabulary, and robe. That boy loves his nubby blue bathrobe.
Color words: “Boo.” “Puhp.” “Tee.” I had been worried, having babysat in the past for toddlers whose gibberish words, their parents claimed, were actual bits of communication. Worried, that I wouldn’t understand my own kid because, let’s face it, those kids were unintelligible. But here we are, and Langston’s running around, saying and doing things that make sense. “Help?” he asks adorably, holding his electric train car.
In his day care classroom, Langston’s lovely teachers recently hung a long strip with the alphabet on the wall. Langston is fascinated with this addition. “Whenever he doesn’t want to do what we’re doing, he wanders over and stands in front of it with a smile on his face.” One day this week, S. told me, “We’re starting to do calendar, to get our three-year-olds ready to move up to the preschool class. So we asked the kids, what sound does “February” start with? And all we hear is these two two-year olds in the back (Langston and another little boy) going 'ffffff-ffff...' ”
He brings over Runaway Bunny, Trucks, or Spiderman and His Friends, and before we even begin reading, it’s all about what letters are on the cover. Letters on a shirt, letters on a sign, letters on the spines of my own books, letters on the covers of tabloid magazines hanging within arm reach in the supermarket checkout line. Everywhere, everywhere, my boy loves letters. It’s really something.
