Can You Say Anemone?

One of Emma’s favorite kind of books when she was a toddler were those ABC’s of nature books. You know the ones. They use the alphabet to share information about a range of kinds of  animals and plants. Emma had one on sea creatures that she was obsessed with. We read that book cover to cover at least once or twice a week and she loved memorizing the names of the creatures featured for each letter.

When she was 3 we took Emma to the Baltimore aquarium for the first time. I don’t think she really knew what to expect when we told her we were going to an aquarium, but when she got inside and saw all those massive tanks filled with sea plants and creatures she was beside herself. The aquarium was dark and crowded, so we struggled to keep hold of her hand as she enthusiastically darted from tank to tank. She recognized much of what she saw from her book and it was thrilling – like being invited to attend the Academy Awards and getting a chance to mingle with your favorite movie stars.

One scene from this trip sticks in my head. Peter and I were employing the one parent in front, one parent in back strategy for Emma containment, so I was a tank ahead in the aquarium waiting for Emma and Peter to arrive. It was a tank full of clown fish and anemone. As I stood there, a man was reading a plaque to his adult companions that described what they were seeing in the tank. He got stuck on the word anemone and began sounding it out, “Ah – knee – moe…” Just then, Emma came bounding up to the tank. She instantly recognized the tank’s inhabitants and gleefully started shouting, “Anemone! Anemone! Anemone!”

The man who had been incorrectly sounding out the word anemone, looked down at Emma and then back at the plaque, a look of surprise blooming on his face. You could see the wheels turning in his head; wondering if she had just read the word that had stumped him or had recognized the sea animal. He looked at his friends with a sheepish grin, clearly wondering if they were thinking what he was thinking – that he had just been outwitted by a 3 year-old. He was a good sport, though. He smiled at Emma and then coaxed his group of friends to move on. And perhaps I imagined it, but it seemed to me that their pace had gotten a bit quicker, keeping them always one or two tanks ahead of us.