“You have three boys. Three energetic, bright, crazy boys. And you’re telling me Tornado A is the brightest of the bunch. Oh, you are screwed.”
Friends are there to make you feel better, right? Joke’s on her, I’m hiding at her house.
But I fear Tornado A is the brightest. Which shouldn’t happen! He’s the youngest!
– He’s got a larger vocabulary at his age than his brother’s at that age.
– He asks for new words. Then repeats them, like he’s savoring the vowels and consonants.
– He has a better handle of communication than his brothers did at that age.
– He’s figured out to move furniture and climb to get what he wants.
– He’s learned to climb the bunk bed ladder and to climb down.
– He brought my mom a diaper because the one he was wearing was wet.
– He knows which toy to take to bug his brothers the most.
– He plays their games with them. Sometimes they even like it or allow it.
– He colors.
– He knows where the pots and pans are, rearranges them, tries his best to use the stove and oven, rearranges the food in the fridge. He does this at every house he visits.
I know. It doesn’t seem like much. But this one is different. He’s too bright.
I think it’s time to add paste to his diet.