The castle with the pointy bits
I like to think my children are pretty literate. You could discuss some quite hifalutin topics with DD when she was two, and DS, while being slower to get there, is also showing the same tendencies. Which I’m happy about.
But there are times when he just doesn’t know the word for what he wants to say, so he tries ever so hard to describe it. An example would be: “Mummy? Mummy? Please can we get a … a … what are cats called when they’re really small?”
“That’s it! Yes, please can we get a kitten?” (The answer was no. Mean mummy!)
But he flummoxed me the other day when he asked if he could go to the “castle with pointy bits”.
I racked my brains. “Atlantis? Where Aquaventure is?”
“The Tower of London?” Who knows what they’ve been learning in school.
“No!” (Rise in pitch denoting increasing frustration).
“Darling, you’re going to have to help me a bit more here. I can’t think of a castle with pointy bits.”
“It’s here. On the way to the shops. That castle, you know, with the pointy bits? Can we go to it?”
Here? On the way to the shops? Oh good god, I have no idea what he’s talking about and, if I don’t decipher it in the next 20 seconds, he’s going to go into meltdown.
“Where on the way to the shops?”
“It’s by the car park. You know, the castle with the pointy bits. It goes ‘Allahu akbar!’” (he sings the call to prayer remarkably well). “S goes on Fridays?”
“Oh! The mosque! You want to go to the mosque?”
“Yes,” he says. “I want to see inside. Can we go? Please?”
Can he? Can I take him into our local mosque? I’m ashamed to say I have no idea.