Tim and and I are debating John's reward for completing today's reading practice. I'm in favor of half a Nutty Bar. Some people around here exercise no self-restraint whatsoever! where Nutty Bars are concerned, and this is a trait I'd hate to pass down to my dear children.
Tim recognizes half a Nutty Bar for the lame, lame, lame reward that it is, so he suggests ice cream. To his credit, Tim has already squirreled away a key parenting trick that should one day come in handy with my grandchildren: When in doubt, spell it out. He gets as far as I-C-E when Ainsley and John shout "ice cream!" in unison.
Prodigies, both of them! Some spelling skills are mastered at a very young age.
When I was a kid, we had a dog who could spell "O-U-T." Alright, so maybe he never said it out loud, but if one of us spelled the word, to the front door Whiskers flew.
We had a particularly bright pooch -- sadly misnamed Bozo -- who knew the days of the week. Or at least he knew Friday. My parents drove to our cottage every Friday night. By about noon on Friday, Bozo wold park himself by the driver's door and wouldn't stray five feet away until the time of departure arrived.
I-C-E is Ainsley's fourth spelling word: she's also mastered Ainsley, Dolin, and Hope (the name of her buddy up the street).