I watched her arrange the tiles, and rearrange, and try again, and again. I'm not sure whether she had a specific goal or if she was just figuring out how they worked, but she investigated them every which way. I watched her do it again, this time with the pipes and connectors.
I watched her focus, and keep at it, while other children flowed around her like a river, going from this activity to that. And my heart swelled with pride for my child, the engineer.
I'm not trying to determine for her what she should be when she grows up, I mean she's an engineer right now. And a scientist. And a storyteller. And a singer.
And I try to call it what it is when I talk to her. Yesterday, I told her, you did some great engineering in the Discovery Zone at the museum, and she agreed with me. When she wants to go test out an idea, I encourage her to go ahead and do some experiments, and work on her hypothesis. When she belts out a tune in the car, I tell her she's a great singer and compliment her rhythm and her style. And when she tells me all about Catty Jane and her recent doings, I tell her how much I love hearing her stories.
I love watching her hone her skills, all of them. It's a treat to watch.