Samson's class has science once a week, and they've been working on the senses. They did a blind taste test (which Samson aced, correctly naming all 5 foods). Why this makes me proud, I don't know, but it does. That's right, my boy knows a marshmallow even when he can't see it.
Anyway, the results were posted on a chart outside his classroom and included the child's name, the food, and their response.
Charlotte, who shares a cubby with Samson, identified the olive as "martini." Her parents must be very proud.
In keeping with their senses unit, the kids were later asked about their favorite things to see, taste, etc. I saw the list outside Sam's classroom and just stood there smiling. I don't think there's anything I can add that wouldn't be superfluous, so here it is:
My favorite thing to see: whales jumping
My favorite thing to taste: carrots
My favorite thing to touch: marshmallows
My favorite thing to smell: pasta
My favorite thing to hear: Jane laughing
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About Me
- dada
- Call me dada. This has, in the few months since my son started "talking," become my name. I'm sure (at least I hope) it will eventually morph into something less early 20th century art movementy --- but I am marked forever as dada. And this is a good thing. I have no real advice to offer, other than always carry Cheerios and extra onesies, and I don't really have a lot of 'wacky' adventures to regale you with. Truth be told, this is as much for me as it is for you. So, uh, thanks for stopping by. I hope it's at least an interesting time-killer. And if not, consider this an ironic exercise in skewering the bourgeouis notions of 21st century American parenthood by deconstructing the materialist ethos that has turned childhood into a demographic and rendered adults simultaneous enablers and slaves. Or something.
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