Every parent thinks their kid is special. Well, unless the kid has to wear a helmet or something. In that case they think their kid is special, meaning retarded. What I'm talking about is pre-politically correct special, as in actually special.

Yesterday I was helping the Bear fill out his Murphy Journal. Damn, need background here. Murphy is a mouse (stuffed) that goes home with the kids of Bear's class on the weekends. One kid per weekend, that is. The kid who's hosted Murphy takes pictures of the rodent and writes about the things that Murphy did in their Murphy Journal. Seeing as these are pre-schoolers they're obviously not actually writing the stuff in the journal - they dictate to us secretaries parents. So anyway...

Yesterday I was helping the Bear fill out his Murphy Journal. Crap, need a bit more background. Bear learned lower case letters in preschool and also how to sign his name. They haven't learned any upper case letters in school but he's picked them up all by himself through a combination of observation and questioning us. The point is, I already knew that he knew his printed alphabet in both cases. So...

Yesterday I was helping the Bear fill out his Murphy Journal. As intimated above this means I was writing in the journal as he dictated to me. (Hah! Bet you half thought I was going for more background in this paragraph, didn't you? Joke's on you 'cause the story's on, Baby!) Lovely Wife had done the previous entry and that was in script. Being the toady follower type person that I am I was also writing in script. After a rather longish bit of dictation Bear looked over my arm at what i was writing, rather in the stern aspect of a strict and micromanaging employer. He began reciting the letters as I wrote them down.

He knows letters in script. We did not teach him letters in script. His school most certainly did not teach him letters in script. I don't think he's picked this up from SpongeBob or the Power Rangers either.

Is my boy precocious? How will I ever know, seeing as my proximity in affection and location makes me a hopelessly compromised judge?

And more importantly, if he is a child genius, do my genes kick ass or what?