In the week since I posted about my daughter's new-found fondness for telling me, my wife, and strangers to "Go Away," I have come to learn a lot. First, the phrase is everywhere. No doubt you saw that I have been spoon feeding her the phrase, biweekly, with Sword in the Stone, but Lindsay just reread it to her in The Paper Bag Princess, a healthy women's lib book if ever there was one. Remember when I cited Babe as my "never would say" example? Well, some Scottish rooster says it to some crowing duck. I've overheard other kids say it and grown-ups say it, which brought me to this terrifying conclusion: My daughter is a genius. It really is the only way to explain how she can pick up things so quickly, then retain them, then wield them for her own purposes.
When I was Daisy's age, which is not quite two, I was sitting in my stroller, living my life, having mashed up food placed in my mouth only to move through my digestive system, out of my body, to be cleaned and taken away by the person who mashed the food in the first place. A woman approached my stroller and reached in and scruffed her hands through my hair and said, "What a beautiful boy!" My parents beamed and the three of them regarded me. I squinted my eyes and looked to the woman and said, "Don't touch my hair." I was not quite two, but being who I am at 33, I'm sure that I meant it. What gave her the right? I'm sure it took no less than twenty minutes to get it looking just so, and Heaven knows where her hands had been--after all, she had just shoved them into a stranger's hair. I'm sure if she had seen a passing orangutan, she would had taken a moment to compliment the back of its tongue, but only after getting both of her filthy meaty fists down the back of the poor monkeys throat.
Don't touch my hair.
Of course, I was not quite two, and my very plain English was lost on her, but my parents heard me clearly. And when the woman asked what I had said, they shrugged and smiled and gave each other a look--which Lindsay and I have recently come to perfect--of "Our child is a genius."
Daisy can say about a thousand words. A quick google search tells me she should have 25-50 words in her cannon. She's WAY past that, not that you could understand them, but we can. Her word for "Popcorn" is very close to "Taco" and if she wants you to lay down next to her she says, "Leit?" and pats the spot at her side. She can say all her colors--even that Red and Yellow make "Orr-inge" and Blue and Yellow make "Geeen" and that Red and Blue make "Paw Pole." Not that she would ever tell you if you asked, mind you, but when you read the story of the white mice dancing in paint it's clear as day. Don't bother me with animal sounds; they are for, like, 18-month-olds and are beneath her. If you ask her what a cow says, she tries to avoid the embarrassing question by tasking elsewhere. She may give in, if you persist, but she'll tell you as if to educate you--you, a grown person and don't what a cow says? Humiliating.
The point is, she is not a genius...well, probably not. Does every parent think their children are adroit? We know Chris thinks Miles is too smart for "The Arts" and Ken and Josh both could fill this blog with their kids and their genius antics...and soon will. But for now it's me, with my magic daughter who can ask you "A Snake in the tree?" or can tell me where the dog has gone to the bathroom by pointing and saying, " 'Touts a-poo-poo, daddy a-mess."
Just so you can see what I'm talking about, here's a video. Enjoy.
Just so you can see what I'm talking about, here's a video. Enjoy.
