Yesterday David took a Latin test he was particularly proud of, and last night after dinner (in the precious hour when the kids are hoping we won’t notice they haven’t done their table-clearing chores) he told me about it.
This was a unique night in our house because I was laid up on the couch, convalescing after a cortisone shot in my shoulder. This detail is important because, marooned on the couch, he had my full attention.
David decided to give me the test. Me, a person who took something like six weeks of Latin in the early 90s. When I took Latin Nirvana was still making music and O.J. Simpson was nothin but a retired football player. A lot has changed (notably the Latin language has not).
He started reading, and quickly I realized that a 40-question multiple choice test is no BuzzFeed quiz. He was committed, not moving from the couch, so was I.
David isn’t the kind of kid who comes home from school telling me about his day. It’s a struggle to get almost anything out of him. I have a kid like who loves to debrief her day, and the contrast only highlights how much David doesn’t do this.
As he kept testing me, I started to get distracted by how excited he was by this. Not necessarily this precious time with his injured mother, but by the actual test — the learning. That’s when I decided I should sneak a few photos to capture it.
Moments like this don’t happen as often when your kids get older. Or maybe they do, you just don’t notice them.
I did very, very badly on the test. O bene.
