When we took the Beaner in for his two-year checkup last Friday, our pediatrician was half giddy, half amazed as his verbal and cognitive abilities. I tend to discount any assertions that the Beaner is smart, precocious, advanced for his age, etc. because really, who cares? If he's any of those things, the only reason to be glad of it is because it makes him a better conversationalist and more fun to be around on a daily basis. It's not like he's going to be applying to Harvard any time soon.
And besides, "advanced for his age" is really relative. Our doc said, "you don't realize how advanced he is because you have no one to compare him to. Wait until he goes to school." Now, technically, we *do* have other kids to compare him to—and all of them are at about the same level as the Beaner (at the same age), with some being slightly more verbal, others being slightly more musical, and so on. Maybe it's because our friends who are having kids right now are all wicked smart engineers, musicians, scientists, writers, or a combination of one or more of those? Maybe it's that all of these smart, accomplished parents actually talk to and play with their kids? Maybe it's that we all had kids when we were slightly older than *our* parents were, when we were more established, more able to provide for them, more able to arrange our schedules around them?
Who knows—and again, who cares?
Of course, now that I've said all that, LET ME TELL YOU HOW SMART MY KID IS. No, I'm just kidding. I mostly want to record that we're seeing more and more examples of him pointing out facts and details about his world like a crime scene technician circling shell casings and labeling lint. It's so neat to see him processing, thinking about how Fact 1 + Fact 2 must mean Fact 3 (even if he draws the wrong conclusion, which is often hilarious). He's also comparing things, which didn't strike me as odd until I heard him do it for about the fifth time this week. (This morning he said, "that pan is hot?", and when I said yes, he held up the pancake I'd flipped out of the pan about two minutes before and said, "this pancake is cooler?")
Yesterday morning, while Al was getting ready to catch a plane, I was getting ready for work, and the Beaner was running around the bedroom half-dressed, the Beaner said, "I have brown eyes."
Al: "Yes, you do."
Beaner: [You know what's coming here, right?] "Why?"
Al: "Because I have brown eyes."
Me, shouting from bathroom: "That's how genetics works: Brown eyes are dominant."
Al: "What color are mommy's eyes?"
Al: (to me) "Did you tell him that?"
Which I guess just proves that the Beaner's eyes are not only brown, but also that they work.