The Glee of a Porpoise Then
I’m rereading The Sword in the Stone, T.H. White’s magical fantasy about the young King Arthur. Here’s a wonderful quotation from Chapter Five. (The Wart is King Arthur’s childhood nickname.)
The Wart did not know what Merlyn was talking about, but he liked him to talk. He did not like the grown-ups who talked down to him like a baby, but the ones who just went on talking in their usual way, leaving him to leap along in their wake, jumping at meanings, guessing, clutching at known words, and chuckling at complicated jokes as they suddenly dawned. He has the glee of a porpoise then, pouring and leaping through strange seas.
This reminds me of my own childhood. No, I was not nicknamed The Wart. 
My parents and their friends never talked down to me, so I learned the vocabularies of my schoolteacher mother and pastor father. I really appreciate that knowledge these days as I write my poetry and tutor a couple of students. I still love words; I still have the glee of a porpoise. 