Tonight
around 9pm, Taikun called me into the playroom: “Papa lai di chia”
(papa come here: note: “di” redundant). He seemed to be away from his
Lego for a while—at least with me. To be his company, I seated myself besides
him on the plastic mattress.
There
was already a three-floor building completed on the green building plate. I
asked “ chit-ê chhù si siáⁿ-mih-lan khí e?” (who build this house?) He
responded, “Mama.” This building was very well designed and built, with each
floor a small figurine inside. The roof was a slant one. Also, there was a
staircase embracing the entire building like a belt. I guessed I didn’t have such
a patience for such a elaborated work.
He first
verbalized some aligned cube in rows on the building mattress as “ho-su” (hose),
his long-time fascination. He was excited and immersed in it.
Then he
started to build a project consisting of towers. He stacked two towers alternatively
—one cube piece for one tower at a time, then another piece for the second
tower. In gradual turns he heightened two towers. During the construction he counted for pieces
used in Taiwanese. Now he could count well from one to twenty, albeit some
numbers skipped (say jumping from ten to twelve without mentioning eleven). After
twenty, the sequence became erratic and fragmented. I am basically content of
his development-- though I guessed he picked this counting skill during
discipline time-out, when I counted these numbered aside him.
He
finally built a tower to the extent that he couldn’t proceed anymore since it
was out of his hand reach. Then he climbed to the table for an extended reach,
adding additional cube pieces to the tower. After having mounted on the table, he
turned around to check my reaction with his mischievous grin—a look that we can
identify he is about to do something bad. (Normally we don’t allow him get on the table,
but this time I am making an exception as the situation requiring it.)
Finally,
the tower grew to the height he couldn’t work on any more [even he was already standing
on the table], and he asked me to lift him up further. I did. He then finished
the tower the several pieces left. Unfortunately the tower only lasted for one
more minute until he inadvertently touched it. As the tower collapsed, “Wow” he
exclaimed and giggled aloud. Though I then suggested to “siu-lí” (repair/ rebuild) it, he didn’t responded. I guessed he needed to be a
bit older to get the clue to be an engineer.
Then the
theme shifted to his beloved themes---gas station and car wash. He loved some
unique building pieces--A piece was designed to represent the filling machine,
with an elastic tube, representing the filling hose, which could be attached to
the machine. He then imagined getting the
car washed. He used a reel piece (with a thread on it) as a water hose, to “wash”
a yellow toy car thoroughly—upside down, including the chassis. It’s also verbalized,
with “ sé sé sé…” (wash wash wash…) lasting for two minutes when he finished
the process. After I asked him “Ah chit-má sé ho beh?” (then, finished washing now?) He replied, “sé ho-a” (washing done.)
Then he drove the car to fill the gas, with verbalization “ga ga ga ga…”
(fill fill fill..). It’s really fun to see the work undergoing with his words---
no wonder his school teachers described him as a verbal kid, if not chatty.
Then, he
picked some randomly assembled work and flew them to the air, pretending it as
a ti̍t-seng-ki (helicopter), a
word I taught him long time ago. I felt surprised that he still remembered this
word. I then playfully pick up some random pieces to “air battle” with this
little imaginary boy. He was very excited, laughing out loud. He was so happy.
He then switched
the attention to small figurines and verbalized to play with them in a park, “ khì-kong-hn̂g”. I proposed to build a swing and slide. I turned the
building plate to another direction to empty out a space for him. He was
serious, pondering how to build, “ án-chóaⁿ
ki”. This put me into an awkward
situation since there was no piece resembling a swing or a slide set. While I
was planning how to get back to him using some blocks with some imagination,
A-po’s voice came to us from upstairs reminding us it’s already 10pm: the time
to take the bath. I asked him to finish. Of course, he didn’t want to close,
trying to keng (push the limits
about) it. To maximize the push, he quickly finished a work consisting of a
pillar and several stacks of square cube pieces. Then he named: “Lih khòaⁿ! ki-á-peng!” (Look! Ice bar!) Yes, it was a bona-fide one! Then he satisfactorily hold his newly finished
ki-á-peng upstairs to finish the ritual for the day: teeth-brushing,
bath, and watch má-lêng-chî káu (potato dog). He loved it---holding it for viewing the
potato dog with T, and with him in bed later.
He is
learning by doing something with imagination. When being Taikun’s play company,
I felt it was a déjà-vu, seeing another myself, many many years ago. [Or, as
Chingtong shared with me before this is called “detachment” a common problem running
in my family?]
What I could recollect now is, I was playing a set of toy train
in the apartment’s living room in Roosevelt Road, Taipei, where I spent my
elementary school years until the 5th grade. I remembered so vividly
that I purposefully padded some books below the tracks in order to make the set
an “elevated” version, just like the subway systems in cities. I was so happy about
the different grades of the tracks where my train could go—not just at-grade
any more. Or, as I understand it today, I was excited about creating something
different, a deviation from that toy’s standard way of play. Though Taikun
hasn’t reach the age when I played with the elevated train, I believe the joy,
especially the excitement of achievement of finishing a work based on own’ will
coming with the play, is the same.
You are
growing, Taikun. At this last time available for play for a week with him, I am
very happy. Thank you Taikun.
I love
you so much, so much, Taikun. You have a week’s school waiting for you tomorrow. Sleep
well tonight. Have a great dream!
