Initially, he grasped the fundamentals: how to smile and then elicit laughter. He understood how to sleep, sit, hold a spoon, and even grasp his tiny toes. He discovered the comfort of a blanket, learned to crawl, walk, and eventually run and jump—stretching high like a tall tree and crouching low like a lion. He experimented with sounds using pots and pans, built towers only to knock them down, and enjoyed the simplicity of rolling and throwing a ball.
How naive I was to believe that his learning journey would conclude after just a year or two. The acquisition of knowledge is a continuous process that never truly ends.
He has since learned about buttons and Velcro, the importance of dental hygiene, and the correct way to flush toilets. He’s figured out how to put on socks, brush his hair, and gently close doors without pinching fingers.
He has experienced kisses and tears, yawns and burps, and learned the mechanics of blowing his nose. He understands the feelings associated with bruises and cuts, the sorrow of breaking something cherished, and how to mend his emotional wounds.
He has progressed to writing his name, drawing houses with billowing smoke from their chimneys, and engaging in games like dominoes and Monopoly. He has learned to spell words like “mum,” “fun,” “sun,” and “van,” and is beginning to leave finger spaces between them.
He has discovered that fishing requires patience, car washing is not a one-off task, and baked cookies taste far superior to store-bought ones. He understands that sunburn is a consequence of neglecting sunscreen; that face paints can be delightful; and that dogs can be gentle, birds can be beautiful, and squirrels likely won’t take his toys.
He has grasped the fact that few things surpass the joy of stickers, that every bath is spacious enough for two, and that any worthwhile party will feature sausage rolls and jelly. He has learned which herbs to harvest from the garden, that forks belong on the left while knives should rest on the right. He also understands that sometimes, it’s not his role to worry about everything.
He has realized that searching for images of feces online is unwise. He has learned that good manners paired with a genuine smile are always appreciated, that it’s acceptable to say no, and that distance does not diminish love. He has found that dinosaurs are more fascinating than frightening and that picking lemons from your own tree is a joy that never wanes.
He has embraced the bliss of dancing. He has discovered ladybugs and dragonflies, spider webs and snowflakes, harmonicas and tangerines, and the taste of salt. He acknowledges that on challenging days, stepping outside is always beneficial, that no sea is too cold for splashing, and no rainy day is unsuitable for ice cream. He knows that a closed door signifies privacy and that a notebook beside the bed is never too young for one to keep.
He has learned to locate Tasmania on a world map, that haircuts go quicker if he remains still, and that tomato soup is a comforting remedy for colds. He understands that sometimes, the best gifts are those gathered from a beach, that postcards hold value beyond holidays, and that there is no limit to the number of books one can own.
He has grasped that peas grow in pods and babies in bellies. He has learned about fireflies and thunderstorms, Santa Claus, heaven, rainbows, and the nature of hiccups. He knows that feeling sad or angry is perfectly normal, yet a friend can often help dispel those feelings.
He has realized that the best days begin and end with a hug in bed. He has learned that making people laugh is a rewarding experience, that fizzy drinks are overrated, and that crafting poems requires significant effort. Much to his dismay, he has also learned that marrying one’s kindergarten teacher is not a common outcome.
He has discovered that wood floats while stones sink, that delivering a good joke is more challenging than it appears, and that coloring within the lines is merely one method of expression. He recognizes that certain challenges—like wobbly teeth, sleepless nights, and long car rides—often require solitary navigation.
In just six years, he has absorbed an impressive amount of knowledge. He continues to work on skills such as zipping, using scissors, swimming, skipping, and the proper way to use erasers, tie shoelaces, and eat kiwi fruit. He is also learning how to share attention and affection, ride a bike without training wheels, and navigate the ethics of stepping on ants.
Occasionally, when fatigue sets in, he may miss his mouth while attempting to eat yogurt. He might misread lines in his home reading book and toss it in frustration. He has been known to stomp upstairs, muttering complaints under his breath.
He remains a work in progress, with much yet to learn. But so am I. So are you. We are all on this journey together.
For more insights and advice on parenting, be sure to check out our related blog posts, such as this one on home insemination. Additionally, if you’re looking for reliable information on fertility, visit Make a Mom, an authority on the topic. For an excellent resource regarding pregnancy, explore March of Dimes.
Summary:
This article reflects on the multitude of lessons a child absorbs in their early years, from basic skills like smiling and walking to more complex concepts about emotions, relationships, and the world around them. It emphasizes the ongoing nature of learning for both children and adults, acknowledging that growth is a continuous journey for everyone involved.