This morning Harrison wanted a note, and because I was in a silly mood, I wrote, "You are a special butterfly," thinking he can't read it anyway, because he is THREE.
But, you guys, he took that note, and then threw himself on the couch and started crying, like SOBBING, and when I asked him what was wrong, no joke, he says, "I'm NOT a butterfly!"
It scared the crap out of me. Turns out, he knows how to read the word butterfly like a pro.
I'll get to the bottom of this, and report back, because the only other explanation I have right now is temporary demonic possession. Demons are all about creepy premature literacy, I bet.