I am typically not comfortable discussing issues of my intellect. I'm reasonably smart, but I am fairly certain it is all a result of my freakish, savant-like memory. It's ridic. I have no idea why some of the things that stick in my head are there. . . like the start date of a therapist that works for me and has since 2008. Weird. I could give you a million more examples, but suffice it to say that anyone who engages in an argument with me has a serious amount of loathing for the memory.
So back to Monkey. He has a good memory. I mostly attribute that to 1. genetics and 2. a speech pathologist for a mom. Reasonable, right?
Well tonight he seriously put that theory to the test and has convinced me that I have, indeed, given birth to a wee one smarter than me. This happened twice. In one night. Not. Normal.
1. Chris and I were again questioning if Monkey's ear hurt. Double ear infections last week have left us paranoid, especially with the random dramatic hand to the ear and statement, "My ear hurt." We delicately explained to him that we want to make sure his ear doesn't hurt again and he calmly stated, "You need call Dr. Palmer." Let's get this straight. Dr. Palmer is the ENT we have seen exactly 4 times, the most recent being in May.
2. Tonight we indulged Monkey's request to "go to walk." Along with cooler temps (finally), it is semi-dark at this time. Monkey looked up at me as we moseyed down the sidewalk and said, "We see noo-nick (music) and Santa." I stopped in awe and looked back at Chris. You see, he was referring to the home, three doors down, opposite side of the street, that had one of those fascinating and slightly tacky blow-up Christmas decorations synced to music last year. Each evening in December, we would walk down to see the "pip--eee" lights. He wasn't. even. two. Not two! Weird.
And that is how, in the course of one night, I became convinced, finally, that my son is smarter than me. Imagine what his wife/husband/domestic partner will suffer in arguments?