Texting with Andres

Andres is a full reader and writer now. He can read Lucia books at night, and he can write to express his innermost feelings--like last night, when he wrote "daddy" and "celia" and then put a giant red streak through both names. Apparently he was mad at us.

His literacy skills have given rise to a decidedly modern form of communication as well: he can text. Yesterday, we texted back and forth a bit (he on Natalia's phone, me on mine) about his day and a brand new loose tooth. It was awesome.

Andres: Daddy it's me!

Me: Hey dude!

I love you!

Hi dude

How was your day?

Good man

Awesome dude

How is your tooth?

Good

Do you want to see my tooth when you get home

Yes! Is it still in your mouth?

Yes

How was music?

My gums are showing the tuth

So cool

Yeahman

We will do legos when i get home

And i'll show you my tooth

Awesome dude

Yeah man

The tooth was kind of a big deal. He showed me when I got home--that is, after he figured out which one was loose again. In fact, though he continued to wiggle and check his tooth until bedtime, each check was accompanied by a trip to the mirror so he could figure out which one was actually loose. (This morning, he confessed to me that he was tired of his loose tooth. "Why won't it fall out already?" he asked, exasperated.)

I can't get over his texting. His personality shines through; I can almost see him giggling as he types out some of these one-liners back to me. Communication has never been his strong suit (nor has it been mine, for that matter). Maybe getting him a cell phone would improve our conversations? Now there's a slippery slope.