Bragging Parents

Have I ever mentioned that both of my children are performing FAR above grade level?  Of course, it’s tough to pin down exactly how advanced they are because Emma is only one and Jacob is only four.  Which means they are not actually in grade school.  Or old enough for standardized testing.  (Or, as far as Emma goes, talking.)  But they are ADVANCED.  I can tell.  Jacob is a poet.  If he’s not reciting verse from some cultural touchstone (read: the “Wonder Pets”), he’s running around the playground making up his own rhymes. (MOVE OVER, KEATS.) Sure, he’s usually running around with his shoes on the wrong feet.  And running right by the friend he’s madly searching for. DETAILS.  He is an artiste.  And Emma?  Where do I start?  She is clearly a scientist in the making. Sometimes when I hand her a bottle of milk, she studies it for a moment.  Then shakes it gently up and down.  And watches the milk slosh around.  I’m almost positive she’s trying to determine its molecular structure. Or measuring the volume by sight.  (“Six ounces, Mommy?  SUH-WEEET!”)  Of course, the sloshing is usually a prelude to upending the bottle and watching the milk drain onto the floor.  SOMEONE GIVE THIS GIRL A PIPETTE. Can a Nobel Prize be far off?

Okay, maybe not.

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