Like most parents, mine got those alphabet magnet letters at my baby shower. You know, the ones you stick on the refrigerator that are supposed to help you learn your ABCs and to count 123? That also tastes really good when not thrown in every direction possible? Yep, those letters!
When I was about two I learned that it was easier to chew on and throw those letters across the kitchen than it was to spell anything. But like all great parents, mom and dad kept trying to get me to spell ‘Mom’ and ‘Dad’ and ‘Christine’ on the frig. However, I was more into spelling things like ‘gthqvzlp’ and ‘PZLU’ instead.
By the time I turned three the letters had moved their way up to the top of the refrigerator, no longer within my reach. I wonder why? Surely it had nothing to do with them being found all over the kitchen floor like the Tupperware bowls and lids? By the way, that cabinet door got a child lock on it before the one under the sink with all those dangerous chemicals in it. Thanks for thinking about my safety MOM, DAD!
Kids And Exercise A Walk Around The Block
Anyway, at this stage of my life, my parents thought I needed to exercise. No more being pushed in the baby buggy. Nope! Instead, it was time for me to walk around the block like the big folk. Of course, my little legs could not keep up with the long strides of my parents. By the end of our block, which was like only one-tenth of the way around the neighborhood, my little legs were exhausted. Or at least that’s what I wanted my folks to think.
Unfortunately, when you’re three-years-old, your parents are like Rocket Scientist. Dad wasn’t about to just carry me without doing something to earn my way up into his arms. You see, my persistent whining on wanting to be picked up on our walks was met with an equally challenging, “Why should I carry you?” from my dad. I tried logic, “I’m too heavy for mom.” He just laughed and said, “You’re too heavy for me too,” as he winked at me.
And that is how the letter and number game on our walks began. Dad told me that if I could read the letters on the street sign, not just some of them but all of them, that he would carry me until the next street. I said, “On your shoulders?” He said, “Yes!”
Of course, I failed. I was only three and hadn’t yet learned all my letters. I got a couple of the letters, but not all so there was no shoulder ride for me today. So it was on to the next street and next sign. Again I failed, getting some and missing others. This was way harder than it looked. Finally, halfway along our walk dad said that if I got three of the letters right on the next sign that he’d carry me. He could see that I was getting tired. Good thing there was an ‘A’ and a ‘B’ and a ‘C’ on the sign. I got three and I got hoisted up on my dad’s shoulders!
A couple of weeks into the summer and I was getting better at my letters, at least the common ones that were on all the signs in the neighborhood. But you see, my dad would sometimes pull a fast one and ask me to tell him the numbers on the houses. “WHAT?” He was sneaky. I was getting more letters right and he was getting more tired of carrying me, so he’d throw me a curveball now and then. Dad always said, “Life isn’t fair. Deal with it!”
The Set-up The Sting The Not So Fast
Deal with it I did. While dad was at work, I practiced more and more with mom and the letters on the refrigerator. Not just the letters, but I practiced the numbers too. By the end of July, I had all the letters A-Z and numbers 0-9 down cold. Mom knew because she had been helping me each day. But we kept it a secret from dad. The two of us were going to display my newfound intelligence on our next walk.
Like most summer nights we went for our walk after dinner. I was strutting my stuff out in front of my parents eagerly anticipating the street sign at the end of the block. When we got to it I looked up and read off every letter without hesitation, “’ P-O-R-T-S-M-O-U-T-H’ BAM CARRY ME!” I shouted. “You missed some,” dad said. “No way!” I said.
You see, some street signs have these extra little letters after the street name like ‘ST’ or ‘DR’ or ‘CT’ sometimes. Remember at this age, parents seem like Rocket Scientist. Dad was one of those and said I didn’t read “all” the letters. I had no idea I had to read the street, drive, and court letters too. It hadn’t been a requirement up until this point of summer. Lesson learned. Another one of those “deal with it” moments.
I now walked to the next street more determined than ever to read every letter on the sign, and I did! I even rattled off the house numbers as we walked. Having impressed my dad with my alphabet and number knowledge, he quickly hoisted me up high onto his shoulders and I proudly looked all around.
We hadn’t even reached the next street and I started reading the letters on the sign. Dad didn’t even challenge me; he just left me up on his shoulders and kept walking. We didn’t even stop at the rest of the street corners on the way home. I was reading the letters on each one as we approached, and he just kept on walking. I got carried the entire mile walk. It was so awesome.
Learning Letters And Numbers Isn’t Enough
Now that I was a letter and numbers wiz, I thought I was on easy street. I’d walk one block, read the letters ‘PORTSMOUTH DR’ each day and then ride my way around the block on dad’s shoulders. Nope, that wasn’t going to happen.
The next day we again took our family walk after dinner. As we came to the end of the block, I read the letters and said, “Up, please.” Remember that Rocket Scientist guy named dad? He looked down at me and said, “Don’t just read me the letters, read me the word on the sign.” I was F*CKED! By the way, that’s a word I didn’t know until the summer of fifth grade when one of my older friends told a joke and I didn’t laugh. Even after he explained it, I still didn’t have a clue what he was talking about. Fortunately, mom and dad explained that one to me on the way to college. I was a little naive, to say the least.
Even though I was now a letter and number wiz, I quickly learned that wasn’t the end of learning. My dad told me I had to learn more. I had to learn how to say the words that the letters made up. Learning to read was more than just knowing letters. That was a lot for a three-year-old to take in, but it’s not like I had anything else to do with the rest of my summer. And so the next lesson of learning began.
For the last month of summer, my parents helped me learn how to read all of the street signs in our neighborhood. Well, more like memorize the street signs. I can’t say I was reading them, because I couldn’t just read any street sign I came across. I got the letters right on the signs by grandma and grandpa’s house, but I had no clue what the signs said. Regardless, I still thought I was almost a Rocket Scientist like my dad. I was ‘reading’ the street signs in our neighborhood and that was pretty good for a kid my age, at least as far as I knew.
When it comes right down to it, the magnetic alphabet letters on the refrigerator where the beginning of how I learned my ABC’s and to count 123, but I’m fairly certain the summer of reading letters on street signs and being carried on my dad’s shoulders is what started my love of reading. I also think it’s why I was always a few reading grades ahead of others in my class, once I started school.
My parents knew the importance of starting me early on the road to reading. Mom helped me learn my letters and numbers, while dad pushed me to put the letters together to form words. And it wasn’t just street signs and house numbers that we did together. Mom and dad used to read to me at night before bed.
Kind of like my buddy Nuff and how his parents read to him before bed too. Check out my latest book Alphabet Stuff With Nuff that’s all about learning your ABCs and counting while you’re at it. Get your copy today and read it to your child at bedtime. Before you know it, you’ll both be counting your way through twenty-six letters and know all about Yellow Yaks and Zombies too!
