Boy Genius

It’s amazing what kids are born knowing how to do: breathe, eat (sometimes), sleep (if you’re lucky). But my kid, he was born with amazing talents far beyond the basic skills necessary for sustaining life. My kid was born with what we like to call a “passion for order”.

At the fresh age of 12 months, my little genius began showing signs of giftedness by maneuvering around the house (and closets) to “give order” to the shoes. I know. Many skeptics may be hesitant to call this a true gift. Odd? Yes. Interesting? Maybe. But gifted? Let me continue.

Not only could my son put the shoes in order, but he did so heel to toe, left to right, in matching pairs, with perfect alignment! It was as if he had been trained by Al Bundy himself!

However, our shoes were not his only target in his quest for bringing order and organization to our world. My son had a brilliance for shutting cabinet doors. Not only could he shut them properly and with ease, but he could do so without bringing injury to himself or others. And if that weren’t amazing enough, he was compelled to instill this same passion in the rest of his family. He had determined that he simply would not allow a meal to continue if there was a single cabinet door open in the kitchen. Our meal would be put on hold until someone rectified the messy situation.

I guess we should have known early on that the little guy was something of a savant when he began stacking the cottage cheese tubs on top of one another. Sounds like an easy task, but lidless cottage cheese tubs will only stack in a certain direction, especially when you get past three feet high.

Some parents might fear a child who can spend hours organizing his trucks bumper to bumper—in lines, in circles, in ovals. They might seek psychological attention for the toddler who wants to make color patterns out of his alphabet letters rather than use them for teething rings. Not me. I believe in letting a child explore his environment—choose his own interests and hobbies. Of course we passed on buying him a tutu for his second birthday in lieu of a new bat and a T.

I suppose all children have amusing quirks and idiosyncrasies that make them aspiring little phenoms, even if to no one other than their parents. Who knows, maybe he will be the next Martha Stewart, Frank Lloyd Wright, or John Nash. Of course all I really want him to do is throw a left-handed fast ball for an inning or two, three or four times a week. Maybe then he’ll be able to repay us for enduring all the obsessive compulsive tendencies of his childhood—and we can retire in style.

And that’s "All in a day’s work."