This week I was fortunate enough to have a visit from my daughter, son-in-law and my two grandkids.
This is a photo of Leo, my grandson, and I'm reading him a bedtime story.
As you can see, we're having a good time. He's almost six and a half years old, and still likes his "Baba" (that's me) to read him a story, complete with "voices".
The book he chose is called Little Oink, and I was jokingly complaining to him that Oink didn't really sound like the "snort" that pigs make.
He calmly explained to me "Baba... it's onomatopoeia". And he looked me straight in the eyes, waiting for that to sink in.
[insert stunned silence here]
I stopped... looked at him... looked at his mother (she raised an eyebrow at me, unsurprised as if to tell me "yeah, I heard it... he knows that word!"), and then back at him... and said "you're absolutely right, Leo. Onomatopoeia".
Wow... what are they putting in the water at home? Oh the places he'll go.