When Number 1 son was very small - 15 months-ish he knew one or two words. . .
We went to an open day at RAF Valley, Anglesey and saw lots of aeroplanes, most of which had absolutely no effect on him whatsoever.
Cue the arrival, from the South end of the airfield, of the Tornado F-3. Out of the haze a black-tipped bullet appears, wings fully swept, compression vapour spilling off the leading edges of the wings as the aircraft hurtles towards us in a halo of full-reheat fire. It is on the deck and really motoring.
The noise is about 2 or 3 seconds behind the aircraft and is a banshee from hell, the very air twanging as the jet screams by. As the pilot pulls up into a wingover and reverses direction to run down the airfield William looked at it with studied indifference and said 'Bird!'
A couple of weeks later he is in the back garden wearing a bright yellow t-shirt and a bee decides this would be a good place to land and take a rest. William is looking at a bee that is bigger than his hand almost which is clinging, exhausted to his chest. He raises his index finger and carefully strokes the bee before turning to Mrs Torslanda - she of the horned helmet and heavy metal breastplate - and says, proudly, 'Bird!'
Nowadays, aged coming up to 9, he knows a few more . . .
luv'n'stuff
J