Monday, December 06, 2004
And the elephant has an amazing memory, too
My husband, Lee, has astonishing auditory memory. He can recall conversations from years ago virtually verbatim. When he reminds me of some long-ago discussion and I ask him what each of us said, an expression crosses his face as though he's listening to a tape that's been rewound. "You said such and so, and I said this and that, and then you said so forth and so on, and then I said blah, blah, blah." To which I can generally only reply, "Oh. I guess so."
In addition to the obvious professional benefits, Lee sometimes uses this aptitude as a kind of party trick. On our infrequent social outings, Lee can resume the conversation we'd been having with those friends months or even years before. When people remark in amazement about Lee's memory, he's been known to reply, "I'm not as stupid as I look."
*****
For me, one of the joys of watching my children is seeing glimpses of loved ones reflected in them. Boo has my sister Kimberly's beautiful doe eyes and his grandmother Nancy's nose. Max has Lee's almond eyes, and his face is unmistakably shaped like that of his grandmother, Babee. (From whom Max and Boo acquired the identical dimples on their left cheeks is anyone's guess.)
And then there's Max's memory.
While I imagine it's too early to say for sure (and not wanting not to sound like a braggadocio when it comes to my kids...), it's looking like Max may have been blessed with Lee's ability to remember.
By last summer, Max had mastered the "ABC song" (making allowances for the rather garbled pronunciation of "LMNOP"). Then he learned it backwards. He memorized the sound that each letter makes. And now he practices spelling like an Olympic athlete in training.
We spell words in the bathtub. We spell words in the car. We spell words in his room, using big foamy letters that form an interlocking floor mat.
A couple of weeks ago, Max wanted me to spell "elephant" using his foam letters. I explained that I couldn't because we only had one of each letter, and elephant had two "e's". I put the letters together on the floor and showed him how the "e" would have to go in two places in order to spell elephant. So we spelled "zebra" instead.
The next evening we were spelling once again. I put together S-U-N, and Max sounded out each letter. "SSSS-UHHH-NNNNN. SSSS-UHHH-NNNNN." Ever the showman, Max has developed a routine: once he deciphers the word I've spelled, he pretends to still be pondering it. Furrowing his brow in mock concentration, he silently mouths the syllables. A "Eureka!" expression animates his face, and he shouts, "I KNOW! I KNOW! IT'S SUN!"
Eager for more, Max asked, "How about "Moon"? I explained that I wasn't able to create "moon" because moon had two O's in it: M-O-O-N. Max grasped the implication, at least in part: "And I only have one "O" in my letters. Maybe we can go to the "O" store to buy another O."
*****
This evening, Max produced a coloring book from his art supply cabinet and asked me to read it to him. I hadn't seen or thought about the book in several months. Then he said perfunctorily, "I got this book in Seattle." I had to plumb my memory, but he was right: I'd bought him the book in anticipation of the long flight.
I began to read, each page revealing a fact about a particular zoo animal: "The giraffe is the tallest animal in the world. A camel with one hump is called a dromedary. The gorilla is an endangered animal who lives in the rain forest."
Authoritatively, Max said, "Gorillas live in Africa."
"Where did you learn that gorillas live in Africa, Max?"
"On the plane."
*****
On Max's first day at his new school, he began to work diligently on an alphabet puzzle. Each letter was embellished with a corresponding picture: an apple on the A, a bear on the B, and so forth. The "N" was adorned with two quarter notes. Max picked it up and said, "It's music!" One of his teachers was watching attentively. "How does he know that?," Mrs. Foltz asked. My reply is just as true today:
We don't really know how Max knows what he knows.
In addition to the obvious professional benefits, Lee sometimes uses this aptitude as a kind of party trick. On our infrequent social outings, Lee can resume the conversation we'd been having with those friends months or even years before. When people remark in amazement about Lee's memory, he's been known to reply, "I'm not as stupid as I look."
*****
For me, one of the joys of watching my children is seeing glimpses of loved ones reflected in them. Boo has my sister Kimberly's beautiful doe eyes and his grandmother Nancy's nose. Max has Lee's almond eyes, and his face is unmistakably shaped like that of his grandmother, Babee. (From whom Max and Boo acquired the identical dimples on their left cheeks is anyone's guess.)
And then there's Max's memory.
While I imagine it's too early to say for sure (and not wanting not to sound like a braggadocio when it comes to my kids...), it's looking like Max may have been blessed with Lee's ability to remember.
By last summer, Max had mastered the "ABC song" (making allowances for the rather garbled pronunciation of "LMNOP"). Then he learned it backwards. He memorized the sound that each letter makes. And now he practices spelling like an Olympic athlete in training.
We spell words in the bathtub. We spell words in the car. We spell words in his room, using big foamy letters that form an interlocking floor mat.
A couple of weeks ago, Max wanted me to spell "elephant" using his foam letters. I explained that I couldn't because we only had one of each letter, and elephant had two "e's". I put the letters together on the floor and showed him how the "e" would have to go in two places in order to spell elephant. So we spelled "zebra" instead.
The next evening we were spelling once again. I put together S-U-N, and Max sounded out each letter. "SSSS-UHHH-NNNNN. SSSS-UHHH-NNNNN." Ever the showman, Max has developed a routine: once he deciphers the word I've spelled, he pretends to still be pondering it. Furrowing his brow in mock concentration, he silently mouths the syllables. A "Eureka!" expression animates his face, and he shouts, "I KNOW! I KNOW! IT'S SUN!"
Eager for more, Max asked, "How about "Moon"? I explained that I wasn't able to create "moon" because moon had two O's in it: M-O-O-N. Max grasped the implication, at least in part: "And I only have one "O" in my letters. Maybe we can go to the "O" store to buy another O."
*****
This evening, Max produced a coloring book from his art supply cabinet and asked me to read it to him. I hadn't seen or thought about the book in several months. Then he said perfunctorily, "I got this book in Seattle." I had to plumb my memory, but he was right: I'd bought him the book in anticipation of the long flight.
I began to read, each page revealing a fact about a particular zoo animal: "The giraffe is the tallest animal in the world. A camel with one hump is called a dromedary. The gorilla is an endangered animal who lives in the rain forest."
Authoritatively, Max said, "Gorillas live in Africa."
"Where did you learn that gorillas live in Africa, Max?"
"On the plane."
*****
On Max's first day at his new school, he began to work diligently on an alphabet puzzle. Each letter was embellished with a corresponding picture: an apple on the A, a bear on the B, and so forth. The "N" was adorned with two quarter notes. Max picked it up and said, "It's music!" One of his teachers was watching attentively. "How does he know that?," Mrs. Foltz asked. My reply is just as true today:
We don't really know how Max knows what he knows.
3 Comments:
You mean Max has known unknowns? ;-)
Or would that be unknown knowns?
I love that he pretends that 'AHA!' moment. I'm really curious to see on what sort of stage Max will want to perform.
And a lot of unknown unknowns, too. But hopefully, that's the only thing he'll have in common with Rummy.
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