Saturday, April 02, 2005

My baby is a genius.
"Yeah," my friend Jack told me the other night. "All parents think their children are geniuses. My parents thought I was a genius, and look at me."
Except that my baby really *is* a genius.
Not only has her vocabulary expanded beyond what I hear a lot of 2-year-olds saying --
"pot"
"coat"
"bowl"
"baby"
"bottle"
"book"
"flower"
"closed"
and on and on -- most of these words are not enunciated well but she knows what she is saying --
BUT she is also making generalizations.
A sweatshirt, she decided, is a "coat." a wagon is a "car," and to underscore her point, she makes "broom broom" noises when she pushes a wagon, either the one she pushes around the house or the tiny toy one she found at my office yesterday. A bowl is a "pot," although when we remind her it's a bowl, she says, slowly, as if repeating an adage of great wisdom, "boooowl."
Yesterday, while we were sitting at the Brainwash cafe and laundrymat having a beer with Jack, out of nowhere, she said, "poop." When we got home, I found that she did indeed have a poopy diaper.
I'm telling you, genius, genius, genius.
And now I have to go, because my genius child is opening the lid to her diaper pail and sticking her hand inside.

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