I like the name Whole Learning.
Whole means to be complete and undivided. There are so many things to teach our little growing people; there isn't anything I don't want to teach Svea about. The other day at Grandma Jeanne's, I started writing a list of all the things I want Svea to know how to do. It was so hard because obviously, this is a huge list. I'm still adding to it, everyday. I want her to be able to write a great letter to a friend, appreciate music, find beauty in strange places, and everything beyond and in between. Whole is the perfect word to fit my idea. Right now, I'm not only teaching Svea capital and lowercase letters, spelling simple words, and counting, but I'm teaching her to help me do chores, interact with all kinds of people, to recognize her feelings, to come when I tell her to, to not kick the table while she sits in her highchair, how to dance with rhythm, and everything beyond and in between.
Whole is appropriate for us, because we don't usually take shortcuts with Svea.
When we talk to her, we're talking in complete sentences, and we always tell the truth. We don't baby talk, and neither does she, and she never did. My personal UN-favorites include 'owie', 'go bye bye', any animal that has an 'ie' for no reason, (horsie, doggie, fishie...), and any time people refer to themselves in first person like Jimmy on Seinfeld. I have never referred to myself as Mom, I say 'me' or 'I,' like grown ups do in real life, and Svea gets it. Svea uses 'you,' 'me,', and 'I.' I'll ask her, "Do you need help?" and she answers, "I need help," she is 19 months 7 days old.
She always feeds herself, even though it takes longer and makes a big mess.
When we're reading a book, either initiated by her or us, we read the entire book. We don't let her start a book, read two pages, then move on to something else. When we start a book, we finish it, every time.
She knows words like hippopotamus, rhinoceros, and alphabet.
She puts her own toys away before bed, even though it would just be easier if I did it.
Everywhere we go and with everything we do with Svea, we are always trying to teach her something. She has the whole world and everything in it to learn about still, we don't want her to miss a thing, or give up an opportunity to learn something.
We are patient with her, always. We take time to listen to her, to try and understand her, and to guide her lovingly.
We've never ever thought of Svea as a lumpy, dumb, blob baby. She has always been a whole person to us, and we have always treated her like the smart, growing girl that she is.
We take her everywhere we go: Music concerts (with protective ear wear, of course,) front row seats at plays, a hike in the rain, to the swimming pool at 9 pm, every restaurant ever, church, and the place where 50 goats try to eat her clothes and face. And she always has a good time.
She does what we do, just slower. I often apologize to people who have to walk around me and Svea holding hands and walking, "Sorry; we're slow motion." We don't leave her out and we want her to do it all. Plus, everything's more fun when I'm doing it with a 1.58 year old.
Right this minute, she's playing in a mud puddle in the rain.
Yeah, Whole is good.
Whole means to be complete and undivided. There are so many things to teach our little growing people; there isn't anything I don't want to teach Svea about. The other day at Grandma Jeanne's, I started writing a list of all the things I want Svea to know how to do. It was so hard because obviously, this is a huge list. I'm still adding to it, everyday. I want her to be able to write a great letter to a friend, appreciate music, find beauty in strange places, and everything beyond and in between. Whole is the perfect word to fit my idea. Right now, I'm not only teaching Svea capital and lowercase letters, spelling simple words, and counting, but I'm teaching her to help me do chores, interact with all kinds of people, to recognize her feelings, to come when I tell her to, to not kick the table while she sits in her highchair, how to dance with rhythm, and everything beyond and in between.
Whole is appropriate for us, because we don't usually take shortcuts with Svea.
When we talk to her, we're talking in complete sentences, and we always tell the truth. We don't baby talk, and neither does she, and she never did. My personal UN-favorites include 'owie', 'go bye bye', any animal that has an 'ie' for no reason, (horsie, doggie, fishie...), and any time people refer to themselves in first person like Jimmy on Seinfeld. I have never referred to myself as Mom, I say 'me' or 'I,' like grown ups do in real life, and Svea gets it. Svea uses 'you,' 'me,', and 'I.' I'll ask her, "Do you need help?" and she answers, "I need help," she is 19 months 7 days old.
She always feeds herself, even though it takes longer and makes a big mess.
When we're reading a book, either initiated by her or us, we read the entire book. We don't let her start a book, read two pages, then move on to something else. When we start a book, we finish it, every time.
She knows words like hippopotamus, rhinoceros, and alphabet.
She puts her own toys away before bed, even though it would just be easier if I did it.
Everywhere we go and with everything we do with Svea, we are always trying to teach her something. She has the whole world and everything in it to learn about still, we don't want her to miss a thing, or give up an opportunity to learn something.
We are patient with her, always. We take time to listen to her, to try and understand her, and to guide her lovingly.
We've never ever thought of Svea as a lumpy, dumb, blob baby. She has always been a whole person to us, and we have always treated her like the smart, growing girl that she is.
We take her everywhere we go: Music concerts (with protective ear wear, of course,) front row seats at plays, a hike in the rain, to the swimming pool at 9 pm, every restaurant ever, church, and the place where 50 goats try to eat her clothes and face. And she always has a good time.
She does what we do, just slower. I often apologize to people who have to walk around me and Svea holding hands and walking, "Sorry; we're slow motion." We don't leave her out and we want her to do it all. Plus, everything's more fun when I'm doing it with a 1.58 year old.
Right this minute, she's playing in a mud puddle in the rain.
Yeah, Whole is good.
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