Quinn watches a lot of TV – enough that I know many parents would have something to say about it. But I’m okay with it because a certain program on PBS has turned my three year-old into a science whiz. So pay attention, Judgey McJudgerson!
Quinn used to watch some shows that drove me crazy. (I can’t tell you how happy I am that he’s finally over Team Umi Zoomi. As much as I love that it taught him a ton about numbers, shapes and patterns, that show quickly became awfully annoying.) But these days, Q is all about Sid theScience Kid on PBS, and Hubs and I couldn’t be happier.
Q’s been obsessed with this show for over six months. It’s literally all he watches now. Occasionally, I try to suggest something else, but he never goes for it. “I want to watch Sid,” he says. Every time. Quinn doesn’t just repeat what he hears on Sid. He actually applies the lessons to his own environment and reenacts the experiments.
To review, my son just turned three. And he’s been saying this stuff for at least six months. Here are just a few ways Q has blown me away with everything he has learned from Sid. We'll start with a super cool one.
Quinn totally gets inertia. Don’t believe me? Watch this 30-second video?
Note: If you blow the video up to full screen, it will be a little grainy because Blogger compresses it. Bummer. Also, if you're viewing this post in your email, the video won't show up because Feedburner is weird like that. Double bummer. Please click on the title of the post to view it in your browser.
Never mind all the gross coughing, almost tripping over his own two feet, and the helmet with the farting/burping monsters. My kid is brilliant!!
FYI, I can’t even spell “inertia” apparently. Spell check had to correct me every time. Der.
There are how many simple machines?
Sid has a whole series of episodes on simple machines. One night as Q and I were telling bedtime stories, he made an astute observation. “Mommy, your leg shadow makes an incline plane on my wall.”
Yep, I was lying on my side on his bed, and the night light casted a shadow of my body on the wall. The slope of my leg from ankle to hip made an incline plane. In my speechless state, I racked my brain to remember all six simple machines, but I could only think of four. (Although I’m quite proud of myself for even knowing there are six of them. And to save you the Google search, they are: incline plane, lever, wheel and axel, pulley, wedge and screw. You’re welcome.)
That’s the way the ball bounces.
“Mom, my soccer ball bounces higher than this hard ball because it has more elasticity.”
And he pronounced “elasticity” correctly.
Friction. And not the awkward kind.
“Mom, I can’t slide in my shoes on the carpet because of all the friction. I’m going to take them off and slide in my socks on the hard floor instead.”
Good solution, Quinn. You do that.
The dirt on dirt
QUINN: Mommy, why do you wash my fruit before you give it to me?
ME: Because fruits and vegetables grow outside, and dirt gets on them. I’m washing the dirt off.
QUINN: That dirt is called soil, Mom.
Yes. Pardon me. Soil.
Earth conscious Quinn
QUINN: Mom, do you know that when the garbage truck comes to our house and empties our garbage cans, it doesn’t disappear? It goes to a place called a landfill.
ME: Yes, you’re right. All the garbage goes to a landfill. What did Sid teach you about garbage?
QUINN: That we need to recycle. I’m glad you recycle. Good job, Mom.
Thank you. Thank you very much.
As I live and breathe.
QUINN: Mommy, where does all the air go in my body?
ME: You tell me. Where does the air go in your body?
QUINN: Into my lungs. Like this (Q takes a deep breath and lets it out.) See, my chest gets really big when I inhale, then it gets small when I exhale. And sometimes I exhale really loud and it’s a burp.
Don’t peel off your what??
Meanwhile, as I was cutting up an apple for Quinn…
QUINN: Mommy! Stop! STOP!
ME: What?! What?! What am I doing?!
QUINN: You’re cutting off my nutrients!
I was peeling the skin off his apple, which until that point had been the devil. Note to self – do not stand between Q and his nutrients. (Ironically – this is the child who does not eat. Anything. Ever.)
Then, just when I think I should call Mensa, Q reminds me that he just turned three…
QUINN: Mom, after you leave my room at night, I eat my boogers.
I’m just going to pretend I don’t know this information.