Making sounds

When I picked Jordan up from school today, he snuck up behind me and honked, using a fun little reed instrument he made out of a drinking straw. It was for a science lesson. You cut the end of the straw into a point, flatten it by biting it a little, and blow into it with a little buzz in your blow, the way you do for a kazoo but less vocally. It makes a great sound! Jordan loved it. He had two different straws of slightly different diameter, and by fitting one into the other, he had made a thing like a slide whistle or trombone, where you slide the pitch by making the instrument physically longer and shorter. He played it all the way home. Between tunes, he chatted me up about sound and vibrations.

Jordan: Mommy I learned that sound is waves. It's the vibration.
Me: Can you explain to me how this thing works?
Jordan: The air makes the straw vibrate and that makes the sound.
Me: Huh. I have not thought about this before and you are really making me think. Does the air make the straw vibrate, or does the straw make the air vibrate?
Jordan: The air makes the straw vibrate. Because you have to blow. And you have to blow in a certain way to make the straw go buzz, and that is the sound.
Me: Wow. I think that is totally right. You even have to blow in a certain way, a kind of a buzzy blow, or it won't work. So it's sort of like, you make the air go buzz, and the air makes the straw go buzz?
Jordan: That's what I think. I'm just guessing about this right now.
Me: That's okay, that's called figuring it out. We use what we know to figure out new things. I'm figuring it out too. What I don't understand yet is how the sound gets to my ears. Because I think the sound has to get to my ears for me to hear it.
Jordan: I think the sound is the waves, and the sound cuts through the air to get to your ear faster. The sound is the waves, and the air is like the sand on the beach. Have you seen how the waves at the beach can kind of cut through the sand? Like that.
Me: Far out. That's different than how I think of it. I think the sound is the air that is vibrating.
Jordan: I never thought of it that way. That's a new idea to me.

Since we were on our way to Jordan's choir practice, I asked:

Me: Do you think this has anything to do with singing?
Jordan: No. I think it is completely different.
Me: How do you think singing works?
Jordan: I think the air goes over that little thing that hangs down in the back of your mouth and vibrates it and that makes the sound.
Me: That's called the uvula. I have no idea what that thing is for. But the way you are describing it, it sounds a lot like what you said happens with the straw.
Jordan: Uvula?!?! [He thought the sound of the word was hilarious and practiced saying it over and over.]
Me: Yeah. I don't know what it's for. I think that singing sounds come from a thing that is farther down your throat called the larynx.
Jordan: Is that the voice box?
Me: Right, that.
Jordan: I think that has little strings in it and those vibrate to make the sound. And there has to be the air to make it vibrate because you breathe when you sing.

As we arrived at choir, I said maybe his choir director would know about how sound is made for singing, and he decided he wanted to talk about it at the break and maybe show how his instrument works.

I have since learned that the uvula does play a bit of a role in the articulation of some sounds, but mostly just glottal stops, not notes. I wonder Jordan got his idea about the uvula from cartoon images of people yelling. The "strings" in the larynx may have been a reference to the "vocal cords," which apparently are not so much cords as folds in the tissue. Which makes the larynx more like a reed instrument, right?

I'm going away! Now follow me!

A child-development book I like says, "The eight-year-old child is an exuberant, outgoing bundle of energy; he meets every challenge head-on, willing to try almost anything. Sometimes parents are amazed at the enthusiasm and excitement with which their child greets the world." I certainly am. Jordan is highly competent and he knows it. He can tidy up a room, learn a piano piece, charm a toddler, walk himself to school, make friends with a dog and its owner, and save up for a big purchase. He can navigate a shopping cart through a crowded grocery store with excellent etiquette. He can suggest strategies for me to deal with a challenge at work (and they're good ideas, too). He runs out ahead of us on the street so that he can lead the way.

At the same time, he is very connected to all of us, especially Aaron; so any new thing he does, he wants Aaron to do it too, or at least be right there to appreciate how well he does it. This leads to a funny dynamic in which Jordan first declares that he will now be doing this new activity By Himself, not the old thing he used to do with Aaron; but very shortly he is inviting Aaron to do it with him. I think this is both because he wants Aaron to admire what he's doing, and also because he genuinely loves Aaron's company.

For example, a few weeks ago I decided that Jordan should try out taking a shower. He and Aaron had always taken baths together, and I was usually there for the washing, but Jordan is getting to be such a big kid that I suddenly looked at him and thought, "Time for this kid to be washing himself," and introduced the shower concept. He loved it. He was thrilled. He declared he was taking showers from now on, maybe every day. He consistently opted out of baths with Aaron. I briefly mourned the passing of the little-kid bathtime scene (which was getting a little crowded, anyway). And then tonight, Jordan extolled the virtues of the shower to Aaron: "You should try it! You can try it right now with me! It feels so great!" And Aaron tried it, and loved it, and they bonded over how much they both enjoy showers now.

New skills

Jordan has a new skill: He can cook himself a scrambled egg with cheese!

He can do the whole process independently: remember what ingredients he needs, locate the proper utensils, crack and beat the egg, grate the cheese, pour the oil, etc. The first time he did it, I guided him in each step, and didn't touch anything. Now I just keep one eye on things while I go about my own business (but I still stay in the kitchen). The trickiest part is cracking the egg: he tends to squeeze it, so that it kind of explodes into the bowl and on his hands. I'm trying to teach him how to do the thing we experienced egg-crackers do without thinking, which is to kind of open the egg along the crack. (Did you know you did that?) I assume experience will be the best teacher of this particular detail. The other exciting part was turning on the stove, which he had never done before. He is quite safety-conscious, listened carefully to my little lecture about natural gas, and has not yet made an unsafe mistake. There is so much to learn - how much oil to use, why you should turn the pan handles in. Jordan finds it all thrilling.

Aaron, meanwhile, is becoming a real reader. He can read "early reader" type books independently, and has a colorful and engaged reading voice.

Here he is in action:

He is a great writer, too. Here is a card he made for his kindergarten teacher, who has been sick for months and will not be back for some time. It says, "I hope you get better soon. To Ms. Mrphy. Aaron." 

For me the most touching thing is how sick she looks, there in her bed, thinking about her classroom.