This morning Kiddo suggested that we write some poems. First we wrote one about a gnat, because she learned last night about the silent "g" from a Shel Silverstein poem.
Babs wanted us to write about her imaginary monsters as well, the pooty and the pomp.
The pomp is scary, and coming!
After helping them write about their subjects, I left them to draw the pictures while I went to get dressed.
"Babs, what does a pomp look like?" Kiddo asked. "Does he have a spiky head?"
"No, he has horns upon his head," Babs replied.
Why does my barely three year old know how to use 'upon' in a conversation? Why does my five year old know to write poetry in the morning?
