He needs to learn to write his name, but I may work on his signature first
Edward is a genuis. It is lunchtime in the Smith house…
Ed – “mummy! I am having soup. HA! Mummy, it is super soup!”
*mummy wipes away proud tears with back of her hand. He will be the next Michael McIntyre. I can swig from a Champagne bottle as I shop in Waitrose*
Ed – “Mummy! The toaster is my friend!”.
We have friends whose children at 3 can write their own names. We got a christmas card from one of them. It was pretty amazing.
Ed’s christmas cards were cotton ball snowmen which when all laid out on the table waiting to dry looked like a cull of baby owls had taken place. Apocolypse Owl.
Or as a friend said “the Tampax christmas range raises a few eyebrows”.
The other day Ed did his first *cough* recognisable person. Gone were the angry wormy mass of scribbles that resembled something which should only be drawn in a room with pastel paintwork and a plump woman with glasses on a bit of string round her neck telling Ed to express himself. This picture had a round (ish) head with (3) dots for eyes, a mouth (albeit on his forehead) and (no body but) two stick legs. WE HAVE A GENIUS IN THE HOUSE! UNRAVEL THE BUNTING AND PUT THE BUBBLY ON ICE!
Seriously though, you have no idea how long I have been waiting for this moment. I did Psychology at Uni and the only thing I remember from my entire degree is that children’s drawings develop the same way and go through stages. Ed is finally at a “stage”. *punches the air*.
But then again, the other week this was a chat in our house…
Me “Ed, did you like mummy’s singing in the choir today?”.
Ed “No. It tasted like yoghurt”.