Recently, my daughter came home from kindergarten and launched into an explanation of the difference between fiction and nonfiction. I was duly impressed when she then provided several examples of both.
I smiled to myself, and frankly, I had a little moment where I privately extolled the virtues of a good education. I praised her for her grasp on the subject and then began grading papers.
After a couple of minutes of grading, Baby-girl began a monologue, one that hinted that she may someday rival LCB in the loquacious department. I was grading, and thus listening only enough to pick up on the fact that she was expounding on the topic of fiction and nonfiction. This continued for a few moments until something she said caught my attention. I looked up, and she was standing at the window, staring out at our hammock.
â€œIâ€™m not sure whether thatâ€™s fiction or nonfiction,â€ she said.
â€œWhat is?â€ I queried, waiting for what I thought would be the title of a recently-read picture book.
â€œThe hammock,â€ she answered, frowning. â€œI canâ€™t figure out if itâ€™s fiction or nonfiction.â€
Iâ€™m not sure where the educational breakdown occurred in that sweet, little mind of hers, but occur it did.
So, I clarified the definition of fiction and nonfiction for her, and fortunately, it appeared to be a simple fix.
Then I asked her if sheâ€™d care to split a nonfiction cookie.
Iâ€™ve found I greatly prefer them over the fiction ones.