On Being "Advanced"

This past Tuesday, pickup time from the daycare was less crazy than usual. So I thought I would take the opportunity to catch up with one of Jackson's teachers.

"How was my boy today?" I asked.

"He had a good day," she replied. Then she perked up a bit. "This morning during circle time, Jackson read the book he brought in to the other children. He read the whole thing."

"Wow!" I exclaimed. "You know, I have noticed him sitting with Kiran and other kids reading to them. But he's reading whole books now?"

Then we launched into a conversation about how we should get him tested since he's so advanced. But I won't write about that lest it be thought that I am bragging about my brilliant son. Just to be clear. Ian and I take no credit. We just think that it's successful outbreeding.

It's rather surprising that he has progressed so quickly. As a two year old, his version of the "ABC" song went "ABABABA, ABABABA, ABABABA, ABABABA, ABABABA, ABABABA." It was tonally correct, but he wasn't at all interested in learning the proper sequence of letters. He shied away from all activities involving writing utensils and paint. By two and a half, he could recognize about 20 car symbols, but only 5 or 6 letters. All of a sudden at three and a half, he started recognizing more letters (and started taking an interest in starfall.com, recommended by my cousin Melanie). And before he turned four he started recognizing some words. Now, a bit after turning four, he reads children's books with fairly good accuracy. The fun thing is that he doesn't read in the monotone manner typical of early readers, but actually reads with inflection. And he really seems to love reading and writing.

At dinner that night, I summarized the conversation with Jackson's teacher for Ian. After affirming Jackson, Ian asked him, "Do any of your other friends know how to read a whole book out loud?"

"No," he replied smugly. "Just me. And the teachers."

Ian beamed.

"Wait a minute," I said, thinking of the five year olds in the class. "What about Julia?"

"Oh," he returned. "Yeah, Julia. She can read. Just Julia and me and the teachers".

"Not even Stella?" Another five year old.

"Oh, yeah. Stella and Julia and me and the teachers."

"How about some of the other bigger kids? LIke Max and Jensen?"

"Oh. (pause) Yeah. A lot of the friends can read a whole book. And the teachers too. The teachers can read a whole book."

I'm rather glad he has become so confident in his success in the area of reading. He has been delayed with potty training and gets a lot of "consequences" and "teacher's choices" at daycare because he has issues with impulse control. Before he discovered his area of strength, he just seemed very edgy. But gaining some mastery over reading has seemed to give him a new sense of accomplishment. He seems more comfortable in his own skin. Certainly less easily frustrated.

So yesterday, Ian picked up the kids. He said the head teacher stopped him and also recommended getting testing for Jackson. So now that's two suggestions by two individuals. To be quite honest, I'm a bit reluctant to go there. You know the scene in Spiderman when Ben Parker is dying and tells Peter, "With great power comes great responsibility"? I'm having these moments when I realize that not only am I responsible for the health and safety and moral development of my kids, but I'm also responsible to help them steward their gifts. Sometimes ignorance is bliss. If I don't know what his potential is, I am less responsible. Does that sound right?

Then there's the issue of how Jackson might steward his own gifts. I have this silly little thing I tell people when they ask me what he is like. I like to joke that he'll probably be dictator of a small country....and that I hope it's a tropical country so I can enjoy my visits with him. He's such a strong-minded kid. So the possibility of a really bright, strong-minded kid worries me. What will happen if his moral compass sends him the wrong direction?

I suppose there's not much I can do other than do my best to raise him to look to the humility of Jesus as an example of how to use controlled power to benefit others rather than self.

Ian and I have our work cut out for us. But I think we genuinely look forward to seeing how this all turns out.

Kiran's Babies

I just spent 30 minutes trying to sooth my crying toddler. We had completed all of our usual nighttime activities without a hitch. Visit the potty, take a bath, put on pajamas, family devotions, mommy time, daddy time, and lights out. But she could not be consoled. She wanted her babies.

This is Baby Colleen.

Most people think it's funny when I tell them that Kiran's first doll, a gift from Grandmum and Granda, is named Colleen. We didn't pick that name. We actually chose the name for her second doll, Baby Gigi, which was a gift from Aunt Elisabeth and Uncle Scott. This is what Baby Gigi used to look like when she was new.

Baby Gigi was named first. Poor Baby Colleen was nameless and ignored for the longest time while Baby Gigi languished in the storage pile under Kiran's crib. I guess Kiran just wasn't ready for dolls the entire time Baby Colleen sat in the corner of her crib. But one day around six months ago, Kiran discovered Baby Gigi's box. She brought it to me with a gleeful look and demanded, "ahpen it". As soon as Baby Gigi was released, Kiran gave her a big hug and said, "mah baby". Since she had finally chosen to bond with a lovey, we figured it had to be personalized. We chose the name Gigi because that was what Kiran was calling herself at the time. She was substituting g's for k's, calling herself Gigi instead of Kiki. Once Baby Gigi became special to her, Baby Colleen got included in the lovefest. Oh yeah. How did she get the name Colleen? A few weeks after Baby Gigi was named, I asked Kiran if her other doll had a name. "Yeah!" she exclaimed. When I asked her the name, she said something that sounded like "Kelleen!". Kelly? "No, Kelleen!". Kaitlyn (her cousin)? "No, Kelleen!" Keilah (another cousin)? "KEL-LEEN!". Then it dawned on me. She was telling me the name of one of her teachers in the daycare. So Baby Colleen joined the family.

It's been fun to watch her care for her babies. Sometimes she'll sit one of them in Jackson's chair at the dining table.

"Baby Gigi. Eating." She'll tell us. "Kiki. Happy."


She loves her babies enough to give them her favorite seat to watch TV (which, of course, happens on extremely rare occasions - the TV watching, not the sacrificial service).

"Baby. TV. Cold. Binket."


And she'll check on her baby occasionally.

"Ah-kay, baby? Ah-kay? Happy? TV?"


Ian and I get a kick out of it.

Except on nights like tonight. When Baby Gigi is at school waiting for Kiki for her daytime nap and Baby Colleen is lost, last seen stuffed into a shoebox by a rambunctious, imaginative older brother. And little mommy is despondent that she doesn't have a baby to hug to sleep.

Fortunately, the big brother understands her plight and will bring her alternate animals to try out and sing songs to try to make her happy once it's clear that big mommy's attempts aren't working.

Itsy Bitsy Spider

Kiran sings. Check out the hand motions that go with the song.

How Old Are You, Kiran? Part 2

Revisiting the same question two months later