I spent a few horrid, torrid hours with my first born this evening.
At first, I was filled with a mix of nostalgia, pride, and the opportunity to spend some time doing something togehter.
That all lasted for approximately 3.6 seconds before it became extremely clear to me that he had no idea, at all, how to write a letter.
Like, not a letter of the alphabet, cos he not only does that but makes up an awful lot of his own letters and words.
An actually letter. One that is addressed to someone, sent by someone else, and with a few explanatory sentences in between.
It’s probably my own fault. I turned off that weird looking paperclip thing that pops up and says “It looks like you’re trying to write a letter”and offering all manner of assistance. Clippy? Is that his name? Does he still even exist?
Although probably not all my fault, as I did demonstrate the template search thing.
Several face-palms and head-desks later, oh, and some hair grabbing and screaming, I calmed down and said “Do you really not know how to write a letter?” and