Literacy and Tulips

Eddie and I went for a walk this morning.  I'd like to say that it was a meandering purposeless walk; walking for the sake of it, but no - we were in a hurry to get to his holy communion class and steaming down the road at a hundred miles an hour running slightly late, but not late enough to take the car for the short distance.

To make up for the relentlessness of the pace, (and in an attempt at 'good' parenting) I tried to point out a few things along the way. 'Look at those budding tulips,' I urged.

At which point we made an interesting discovery.

'Tulip is one of my favourite words,' he enthused. 'You can really taste it.'

Really, I thought. And what exactly does it taste of? Masticated flesh, perhaps? But of course I didn't say that.

'It tastes of air,' he explained. 'But air in a tube.'

Oh, right.

Turns out that we may have a little synesthete on our hands. Later on we were talking about whether he preferred Maths or Literacy at school.

He physically shuddered at the word 'Literacy' - though it is one of his favourite things.

'I am probably better at literacy,' he explained, but I hear and sort of feel the whoosh of the paper-cutting thing when you say it.'

'The guillotine?' (Not to brag, but I have quite an impressive one in the study: it was one of my favourite Christmas presents last year.)

'Yes, that.'

At bedtime I did another little check. What colour is 'A', I wanted to know.

'Orange,' came the reply. Without any hesitation. C is blue, and S is red, apparently.

OK. So my friend Google tells me that apparently four percent of the population experience this phenomenon of experiencing a cognitive intertwining of sensory perception. But common amongst writers and artists.

Ergo, he'll probably grow up to be a poet or a novelist. Obvs.  Except that 'literacy' and a guillotine is a slightly unfortunate association...



Currently reading: Bookworm by Lucy Mangan