freshhell wrote today of the mixed feeling of wishing your children would grow up and wanting to freeze them exactly as they are. The more AJ changes, the more I want to both hold onto him so I can get a handle on him and also step away and see what happens next.

Somehow over the weekend it really sunk in that AJ starts kindergarten in three weeks. Summer is drawing to a close, but so is the first phase (or the first million phases, depending on how you look at it) of AJ�s childhood. From now on, significant amounts of AJ�s time will be spent away from me. And while I�m excited about being able to get some things done, I�m also feeling more than a little bit sad. Because no matter how much I love him now, AJ keeps growing up and I keep finding lost parts of him to miss even as I find new parts to adore.

* * * * *

Scene: Harriet�s bathroom. AJ is in the bathtub playing with a set of foam ABC�s that stick to the walls of the tub when damp.

AJ: Look at my picture, Mommy!
Harriet: [enters the room and sees that AJ has arranged a large group of the letters into a tight formation like a puzzle] That looks really neat, AJ!
AJ: It looks like an ancient picture!
Harriet: Why do you think it looks like an ancient picture?
AJ: Because the letters aren�t in words yet. They�re just pictures.

* * * * *

When he says things like this, I find myself shaking my head, wondering where he keeps all these bits of information and wondering how much there is I don�t know about him, despite the fact that we spend most of our waking hours together. I didn�t know he knew the word ancient. I didn�t know he remembered our discussion of more than a year ago about the development of writing, a discussion that occurred in the wake of his fascination with an exhibit of cuneiform and hieroglyphics at the Oriental Institute museum.

As he reads more and more � he�s been plowing through the Magic Tree House books of late � his vocabulary is becoming ever more sophisticated and precise. This should be no real surprise � our family is about as devoted to words as we can be. The house is covered with books � I finally passed the 1,000 mark in my LibraryThing catalog, but I�ve got miles more to go. But the precision with which he can now express himself still amazes me.

Earlier this week, we were at the pool with The Girl Next Door and her 9-year-old brother. They were snacking on veggie crisps and offered AJ some. He tried one.

�Hmm. I recognize this. But I don�t want any more,� he said.

�What does �recognize� mean?� asked The Girl Next Door, swinging her legs against the metal pool chair.

�It means it�s familiar to me,� replied AJ.

�What�s �familiar� mean?�

Her older brother chimed in, �Recognize is familiar and familiar is recognize. Let�s go swim!� And they did.

AJ confessed to me later, �Well, recognize and familiar aren�t EXACTLY the same.� But he couldn�t quite put his finger on what the difference was. Finally he decided, �recognize is a verb and familiar is an adjective.�

Fair enough. AJ needs his categories.

But sometimes he gets frustrated when The Girl Next Door doesn�t understand what he�s saying. He ends up talking to her older brother instead who, despite the four-year difference in their ages, really likes AJ because they both love sciencey things. And then The Girl Next Door feels left out. It�s a puzzle for them to work out. In some ways, they work better as a trio than as two.

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