"No, I'm this many," she said holding up her three middle fingers, joining the pinkie and opposable thumb. Emma is indeed three, but what she taught me last night was much more important than her age or that she liked to watch juggling.
Last night we had skating night sponsored by the sports committee at work. I love to skate having spent more hours than I could count on my Rollerblades®. The problem, of course, is that I still cannot hold my full weight long enough on my right side to be able to skate normally. I had to try, and no, I did not fall, even once. I did decide, though, that just because I could make it around the rink did not mean that I should continue to do so. Byron and I shared the "honor" of both being sidelined due to volleyball injuries. Byron's requires a foot cast, so he is much worse off than I.
Well, I suspected I might not be able too skate long, so I brought something else to entertain myself. I promised John I would juggle for the madrigal dinner at church. I found the best available practice balls at Sports Authority. Think two layers of balloon stuffed with very fine sand or cornstarch. They are a touch too small, but I can do 6-10 tosses now and hope to be better by the event in early December.
So, Emma and I have gotten to know each other a bit (she is Byron's first born). Like most adults, I wanted to place her in chronos. "So you are this many?" holding up the last three fingers, holding the index and thumb together? Now I have no idea why we adults have to use fingers when language will do, but for some reason we persist.
"No, I am this many," voiced Emma, holding up the traditional middle three. I do not do this just to harass little kids. For some reason, as many as ten years old, I lost the ability to hold the traditional three in my dominant right hand. It was simply much faster to use the outer three than use the other hand to help the right hand create the correct formation. So, for ten years, three year olds and I have had this problem. Last night was the first time I realized why Emma and I did not communicate in our digital expressions on the quantity know as three. I was counting three fingers to arrive at the answer. Any three would do and I would have been happy. Emma, on the other hand, was using the middle three fingers the same way you and I would use the Arabic numeral 3, or the Roman number III. To her, I may as well have written my 3 backward. Thank you, Emma. Now I know why I need to make the effort to use two hands or speak left-handed. I am sure there are myriad other applications to this lesson, but I will leave them up to you.
Last night we had skating night sponsored by the sports committee at work. I love to skate having spent more hours than I could count on my Rollerblades®. The problem, of course, is that I still cannot hold my full weight long enough on my right side to be able to skate normally. I had to try, and no, I did not fall, even once. I did decide, though, that just because I could make it around the rink did not mean that I should continue to do so. Byron and I shared the "honor" of both being sidelined due to volleyball injuries. Byron's requires a foot cast, so he is much worse off than I.
Well, I suspected I might not be able too skate long, so I brought something else to entertain myself. I promised John I would juggle for the madrigal dinner at church. I found the best available practice balls at Sports Authority. Think two layers of balloon stuffed with very fine sand or cornstarch. They are a touch too small, but I can do 6-10 tosses now and hope to be better by the event in early December.
So, Emma and I have gotten to know each other a bit (she is Byron's first born). Like most adults, I wanted to place her in chronos. "So you are this many?" holding up the last three fingers, holding the index and thumb together? Now I have no idea why we adults have to use fingers when language will do, but for some reason we persist.
"No, I am this many," voiced Emma, holding up the traditional middle three. I do not do this just to harass little kids. For some reason, as many as ten years old, I lost the ability to hold the traditional three in my dominant right hand. It was simply much faster to use the outer three than use the other hand to help the right hand create the correct formation. So, for ten years, three year olds and I have had this problem. Last night was the first time I realized why Emma and I did not communicate in our digital expressions on the quantity know as three. I was counting three fingers to arrive at the answer. Any three would do and I would have been happy. Emma, on the other hand, was using the middle three fingers the same way you and I would use the Arabic numeral 3, or the Roman number III. To her, I may as well have written my 3 backward. Thank you, Emma. Now I know why I need to make the effort to use two hands or speak left-handed. I am sure there are myriad other applications to this lesson, but I will leave them up to you.
Comments
Since I only notice the minor problem when I try to speak symbols with three-year olds, I think of it more as a speech-defect than a handicap. :)