Bad Dad

Last week Alexander was drawing on the window with the window-crayons he got for Christmas. Mostly he scribbled. Rarely does he actually try to draw something.

After a while he started writing letters, practicing what he's learned in school. He would say the sound of the letter t-t-t then write the letter itself: T.

"d-d-d," he said, writing D.

"a-a-a." He wrote A.

"d-d-d." He wrote d. Then he stood back, looked at what he'd written and said (with delight and surprise), "Dad!"

It was the first word I've ever seen him create. I knew he was learning to write letters in school, but I hadn't realized he was putting them together to create words. Pretty cool.

So I asked him to write another word. Above "DAd" he sounded out b-b-b, a-a-a, d-d-d. BAD.

I started laughing before he had a chance to stand back and read the whole of what he'd written: BAD DAd.

It's a bit hard to read. If you squint (and ignore the P and R he added afterwards) the pink letters spell out BAD DAd.

A few mornings later at breakfast, I was grumbling about Michiel because he forgot to put the trash out so I had to run out there in my pajamas before the garbage truck came. Alexander looked up from his cereal bowl and said with all the wisdom of an almost-five-year-old, "Bad Dad."