22/12/2025
You see ehn, I was just trying to cook dinner. That’s all. Ordinary fish stew. But somehow, I ended up in an impromptu biology class — led by my 5-year-old son, with Grandma providing moral support and side commentary.
Now, a bit of background: every time we buy fresh fish, I let my son “inspect” it. It started as a way to keep him busy while I cook, but it’s become our little science ritual. He checks the scales, opens the mouth, peers into the gills like a mini professor with invisible lab goggles.
We also live in an area that's part of a bird migration route — so birdwatching has become our evening hobby. Daily, birds of all shapes and sizes land in our compound to drink water or build nests. So yes, nature is our backyard teacher.
Anyway, back to the fish.
I just brought out this fine fresh tilapia when my son, after examining its teeth, pointed to the fins and said confidently in Yoruba,
“Mummy, ẹsẹ ẹja ni wọ̀nyí”
(“Mummy, these are the fish’s legs.”)
I looked at him and started rethinking what I'd been taught in school, Grandma — who’d been paying attention — exclaimed, “Ah! That’s true o! Why didn’t I ever think of it?”
Then she launched into a full explanation based on our Planet Earth documentaries on YouTube: “They always show the fish standing on the seabed! It’s true now — those fins must be their legs!”
At that point, the kitchen became a classroom.
We talked about how every living thing needs a structure — bones, spine, water, balance — the whole thing. I showed him the fish’s backbone and compared it to his spinal cord.
Then I told him something that made him pause:
“When you were in my tummy, you looked like a tadpole too. You even lived in water for nine months.”
He looked completely amazed. “So I used to swim inside you?”
I said, “Exactly! Maybe that’s why you love showering with water all over your face — eyes open like you’re still under the sea!”
Grandma just burst out laughing. “Ah, science can sweet like this? When we were small, they didn’t teach us like this o!”
And she was right. Growing up, science was all about memorizing notes, not discovering wonder. But standing there, fish in one hand and curious child in front of me, I realized — this is what learning should feel like.
Real. Funny. Messy. Smelling faintly of tilapia.
So yes, dinner took a little longer, and my kitchen still smells like Lagos Island fish market. But my son learned about anatomy, balance, and evolution — in Yoruba, no less.
