Distracted Dad
Richard Hearn does the maths
The Boy enjoys counting. He finds addition addictive and multiplication has the X-factor. He’s not really got the hang of division yet, except to know that to cut his piece of cake in two to share is bad news.
There are other, what I call, ‘maths problems’. For instance, don’t interrupt him when he’s counting. We did that when he was on the way to 200, and he went into such a mood, that later in the afternoon when we finally persuaded him to try again, we were silent like in a library. You could hear a pin drop (and a five year old count).
Meanwhile, Youngest™ bites his fist with excitement. And weirdly, he seems to find the number 120 immensely funny. You might think he just happened to laugh at that stage in the counting, unrelated, but it’s happened more than once. (Twice. You see, this maths knowledge is catching.)
Other maths questions come thick and fast. “What’s seven plus six?” The Boy’s not doing maths homework – that’s just what’s on his mind. He asks it like I might turn to someone else in the room and say: “Who was that actor who played the baddie in the first Superman films?” or “On which holiday did we mistakenly camp in that ditch?”
Numbers mark out the day. “How many hours ’til my birthday?” (His birthday is in September. We’re in June.) “How many days ago was I born?”
“He’s not really got the hang of division yet, except to know that to cut his piece of cake in two to share is bad news”
Yesterday, when I chose him a T-shirt, he said: “I haven’t worn this for a decade.” When I explained he hadn’t been alive for a decade, he answered: “Oh yes, I forgot.”
I love his enjoyment of numbers: the way that basic arithmetic has become a fabulous game. He has a game show host’s enthusiasm when he asks: “Is two fours bigger than seven, yes or no?”. When I answer, he responds dramatically: “You are…”(pause for effect) “correct!”
Adding five is his most popular pastime. This is the age difference between him and Youngest™. “How old will I be when Youngest is 14?” he’ll say. (Answer: 19). “When I’m 62 how old will Youngest™ be?” (Answer: 57). I should just stress that he doesn’t actually call him Youngest™, that’s just my code in this column, but you get the gist.
This is all fine. More depressing is when he asks how old we’ll be when him and Youngest™ are 139 and 134 respectively. Adding 38 to an age – as I have to do to Youngest™’s is both more difficult and more depressing – a brutal reminder of mortality over Shreddies. Sometimes when he asks how old I’ll be when he’s some unfeasibly large number, I just answer: “Quite old.“ “Massively old!” he answers. “You’re old when you’re 20!”
Thanks for that.
