I have two favorite memories of my youngest daughter Kate’s childhood.
One is of me singing to her as I rocked her. I’m not much of a singer, but it didn’t seem to matter to Kate. “Sing it again,” she’d say whenever I’d stop.
The other memory is of Kate, her daddy, and me sitting in the den after supper, all reading silently.
These domestic scenes are misleading; Kate was not a sedentary kind of girl—which is probably why these —rather than other memories that might include scissors and bedskirts or markers and carpets—linger.
Kate learned to read early, just a few months short of five years old. She was writing stories before she knew to put space between words. (Seriously. Written artifacts survive as proof.) Don’t ask me how she managed to learn to read without noticing the spacing.
At six years old, she could write better sentences than many college students. I know because I taught two semesters of freshman composition. (sic)
She was an early user of metaphor. “You’re pulling my leg,” she’d say, and then, “That’s just an expression,” in case the other party to the conversation was a literalist.
By age seven Kate had taught herself enough HTML code to build her own website. She visited other people’s sites, copied their code, and tweaked it to get the effect she wanted. She designed and wrote her own newsletter, organized her own club, put together a neighborhood canned food drive, and donated the food to a local church’s pantry. All on her own initiative and enthusiasm.
So you won’t be surprised to learn that Kate now has her own blog, The Wayfarer Chronicles: http://mkatehill.wordpress.com/2012/06/26/follow-the-music-wherever-it-may-lead/
It’s all about reading, writing, music—and travel.
Bon voyage, Kate!