What we teach our kids

Tamara walked out to the bus stop with me this morning. Trevor and Abigail walked along with us, enjoying a day much less humid than yesterday.

Trevor saw his friend, Vlad, at the playground flying a kite with his babushka. Vlad is from Belarus.

"My friend! My friend!"

"Trevor, would you like to learn something in Russian to say to Vlad?" I asked.

"Noooo..."

"Come on, big guy! Can you say molodjets?"

"Mmmmm," was followed by an indistinct growl.

"Mah," I offered.

"Mawwwwh."

"Lah," I continued to prompt him.

"Laaaaa!"

"Dyets," I pronounced.

"Jets," Trevor mimicked.

"Good job! Molodjets!" Molodjets means 'good job' in Russian.

"Mallow-jets!" echoed Trevor with an impish grin.

My bus pulled up. As we walked over, Abigail looked at me and said, "Maaaaaaah."

"Lah," I said expectantly.

"Maaah."

"Dyets."

"Maaaaaaaah."

Tamara and I both had a good laugh, and I got on the bus.

Later, Trevor sent me an instant message.

"TRUCK"

Tamara had told Trevor how to spell the word, and he had remembered the letters and pecked them out on the keyboard.

"DUCK"

It wasn't too big a leap from 'truck,' and, partially thanks to Word World on PBS, Trevor can now spell his name and two words. Not bad for a pre-preschooler.