'Uncle Ric and Uncle Tony are so cool," opines my 9-year old. "When will we see them again?"

"Well," I reply. "I'm not sure. We might see them this week. Then again, we might not."

Uncle Ric and Uncle Tony are my husband's younger brothers. They are the consummate cool uncles. They live in Santa Barbara and shape surfboards for a living. When work is slow, they travel the world looking for surf and adventure. They are not the kind of uncles who remember birthdays. They are the kind of uncles who will entertain the kids with skateboard tricks and give them lots of junk food.

Shortly after my conversation with my 9-year-old, Uncle Ric shows up at our door. He's taking one of our spots on a river trip (we had to cancel and find replacements). In return, he's agreed to help us do some work on our house — he can build anything. The kids immediately begin following him around like he's the Pied Piper. They "help" him work on the floor and the three of them debate the identity of the best skateboarder in the world.

I'm a little worried about the kids' being distracted because I know they need to stick to their school routine. Three months into kindergarten and my 5-year-old loves school but isn't too interested in learning. We try to review his letters every night but he just isn't into it. How can he sit still and look at letters when there is mud to play in, rocks to crush, holes to dig?

But Uncle Ric is full of surprises. I knew the kids would have fun with him in the house but I didn't expect their education to progress. I was wrong. On the third day of Uncle Ric's visit, my 5-year-old ran into the kitchen where I was fixing dinner.

"Mommy, mommy, I can spell a word!" he yelled, jumping up and down with a big grin on his face. "Uncle Ric taught me!"

"That's great!" I reply. "What word."

"Butt! B-U-T-T, butt!" He dissolves into giggles, thrilled not with the accomplishment of spelling a word but of spelling a "bad" word. He looks sideways at me to gauge my reaction. I arrange my face into a serious look.

"That's great, Johnnie," I say. "It's good to know how to spell words even if you're not allowed to say them." Then I turn away from him and smile.

That night in the tub, he arranged his foam tub letters into his first word. B-U-T-T.

"What would you like to know how to spell next?" I ask him.

"Uncle Ric says he's going to teach me to spell fart!" he answers.

In the other room I hear strangled noises. I leave Johnnie to his spelling to see what's happening.

Uncle Ric has decided that for talent night on the river he's going to burp the alphabet. He's practicing and my 9-year-old is trying to join in.

We love Uncle Ric. He's so cool. And he has helped me remember that learning comes from unexpected places. Flash cards are great but Uncle Ric is better.

Abbie Gripman, a Flagstaff mother of two children, can be reached at agripman@azdailysun.com.