I cracked the reading code when I was 18 months old. I mean, I wasn't reading Tolstoy or Kozinski (that was for when I was a pretentious 12 year old and, apparently, wanted to get punched in the head whilst carrying around said tomes) but I could recognize "cat" and "Dog" and "Fish" as words and what they meant. Trust me, it was a big deal.
In 1969 I was five and there was really nothing in place for a kid like that, one that could read so early. Oh, yeah, the reading just more comprehensive by that point. So, by the time I was in kindergarten and could read on a 3rd grade level, the only option the school had was to put me in some kind of special ed. My mother balked at that, understandably and I was trotted off to hebrew school where I no longer excelled and that was pretty much the end of it.
Now, I have no intention of being the Rick Moranis character from "Parenthood". If Zo shows an interest, we'll pursue but I'm not going to inundate her with flash cards or anything. (Okay, maybe one or two, but just about the states and their capitals, I promise)
The reason for all this code cracking talk? Zo loves books. She adores books. And this morning, while feeding her, she picked up a soft cover baby einstein book. It's one that we read to her often. And she started holding it like she was reading it. And by that I mean, the picture below. But, while you are looking at that picture, I want you to imagine her babbling on and on and pointing to the words on occassion.
Okay. Blowhardy parental pride moment is over.
Oh, and this is the most interesting thing she has done in a while, hence the reason for the slow going blogging.
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