Here’s a little excerpt:
For me, early academics came as a way of killing time. It started when my oldest (who is in high school) was two-years-old, and I was on bedrest. There isn’t much I can change about that part, which I think is why it gets my heart aching every single time. So many of my memories from that time consist of me laying on the couch, trying to keep my pregnancy (and also my lunch), with him so patiently hoping for something to do together.
It wasn’t horrible. He’s naturally a schoolish sort of person, so it could have been worse. But still: if I had known then what I know now, I would have done things differently.
We spent a lot of time on numbers and colors and letters — the “important facts” of early childhood. Admittedly, I was so green with nausea that reading aloud wasn’t possible a lot of the time.
I never asked the question of what early childhood is for or whether there were better things to do with him, better ways to have him spend his time. The trend I started when he was two continued through all of his preschool and kindergarten years while I continued to get pregnant, have babies, nurse babies, and so on.
Get the (almost) weekly digest!
Weekly encouragement, direct to your inbox, (almost) every Saturday.