I don’t like to brag about my clever children on this blog too much. Not because we have stupid children (they can be a pain in the neck sometimes, but they’re not stupid) but because it’s not terribly interesting to read about.
The strange things they say or do are fun to read about, a spot of naughtiness is entertaining, but mostly glowing praise is of interest only to immediate genetic relatives.
That said, the Lovely Melanie was taken to one side by
Doob’s Amber’s teacher at school (she volunteers there on Thursday mornings) to be told just how impressive Amber’s reading skills are.
That’s a compliment to Amber – a smart little thing who consistently surprises us with just how clever she can be – and to the Lovely Melanie, because she’s the one who does by far the majority of formal teaching at our house – the boring sitting-down-with-homework stuff.
I might run about randomly pointing at clouds or aeroplanes and enthusiastically explaining how they work, trying to get the girls excited about physics and engineering and whatnot; but it’s my amazing wife who does the hard work of teaching them the basics they’ll need to discover these things for themselves.
Hopefully, we’re a good combination of enthusiasm and education. The trouble is, when bringing up children you never really know until it’s far too late…