My kid's a genius! How's yours?

I happened upon an article recently that described a set of guidelines being circulated to all early childhood educators and maternal and child health nurses to help them identify gifted children. Now, I’m pretty sure I don’t need these guidelines to know that my children are, (naturally) gifted but for your information the ‘signs’ to watch out for are:

* Using complicated words or sentences.

* Coming up with unusual ideas.

* Having an extraordinary memory.

* Being socially and emotionally mature for their age.

* Advanced physical ability such as extraordinary athletic skills.

I have excellent examples of all the above for both my children. But I’ll just stick to Noam, my eldest. A three year old who is a sensitive new age toddler, fully in touch with his feminine side.

Noam has always been fond of large words and since his father is French it came as no surprise to us that his first words to us were: ‘Bonjour. Je voudrais un biscuit s’il vous plait’.

Recently I asked him to put his toys away after he’d finished with them and he replied: ‘I will acquiesce to your request momentarily. Presently I am enjoying the art and craft stylings of Mister Maker. Also, bickie. Tout de suite.’ What a little treasure.

Noam is always coming up with unusual ideas. At first it was intriguing, though somewhat juvenile experiments like ‘Will Mummy’s perfume bottle float in the toilet?’ or ‘Is my own faecal matter a good skin exfoliant?’ But lately he has leapt ahead and I found him fashioning a step ladder from legos so he could reach the biscuit barrel. Einstein!

Noam’s memory improves exponentially every day. His ability to recall the whereabouts of only a partially-sighted block of chocolate is uncanny. So too is his ability to remember the location of every park that he has ever visited or even just walked past. Woe betide the person who thinks they can distract him while scooting past that tiny park with the minimum of play equipment that you stopped at for 5 minutes 18 months ago. He remembers.

If you were impressed thus far by Noam’s strong candidacy for ‘gifted’ status then you are in for a treat. Social and emotional maturity is Noam’s forte. I've lost count of the number of times the following scene has played out. I put Albi (Noam’s baby brother) to bed for a morning nap. Albi takes a little while to settle himself and he cries out hoping for another cuddle. Hearing his brothers desperate wails Noam sprints into the kitchen and says ‘Mummy, Albi is crying. Oughtn't you ascend the stairs to his chamber and console him with your motherly love? Also, bickie.’ Finely attuned to the needs of others is Noam.

The final ‘gifted’ sign to watch out for is advanced physical ability such as extraordinary athletic skills. This is possibly Noam’s weakest department but I do believe that he could possibly be drafted by Freemantle as a small forward. I'm certain he can kick straighter and with more confidence than the poor Freo boys.

So there you have it. It is clear that Noam is on a trajectory straight to geniusness. And with a mother making up words like 'geniusness', is it any wonder? Albi is not too far behind either though I do need to iron out his tendency to continually bang his head against his cot. I’m sure there’s a ‘gifted’ reason why he does that and he'll explain it to me shortly.

Sing Star

I'll admit I fancy myself as a bit of a singer. I'm fully aware of my vocal limitations but that doesn't detract from the immense enjoyment I derive from singing. These limitations no doubt do detract however, from the pleasure of anyone in my general vicinity. But not my children. They are my greatest fans. Noam, who is at least old enough to request the cessation of my singing if he wanted to, does not. In fact, he regularly makes requests. Could there be any greater vote of confidence? I'm tipping I get invited on The Voice next season, on the back of my child's adoration. And as for Albi, the little one, he's navigating a somewhat violent stage at the moment and regularly hits me in the face. Though never when I'm singing. So there you go. I'm quite likely to be the next Mariah Carey.

There are two interesting things I have noticed though in relation to singing to my children. The first is that I become an automatic censor machine. I don't even have to consciously think about it. One moment I am happily singing along to 'Ride Wit Me' by Nelly and the next minute I am flawlessly humming over the top of his fellatio requests. I can turn the 'explicit version' of any of my Ipod songs instantly into the radio edit. Not a bad effort, particularly when 'Creep' by Radiohead comes on. Thom Yorke really enunciates in that one. 

The other amusing thing I've noticed is that song lyrics which used to mean one thing to me, now take on a whole new significance. Take these Salt 'n' Pepa lyrics from 'Whatta Man';

'Every time I need him, he always got my back,

Never disrespectful, 'cause his Mama taught him that...'

In days gone by those lines would fill me with visions of a strapping lad who would treat me like a bloody Queen. But instead, when I hear it now, I feel a surge of pride that I am the Mama who will teach her baby boys to respect women. Yes indeed. 

Sticking with Salt 'n' Pepa, but shifting songs to 'Shoop', I am already feeling the congratulations coming from the ladies on the perfection of their bottoms.

'You're packed and your stacked, 'specially in the back,

Brother, wanna thank your mother for a butt like that...'

My pleasure ladies. Thanks for noticing and I appreciate your gratitude. 

I love singing to my kids. And while they're still little and unable to over power me I will continue to sing to them. I know that soon enough they will turn to me, as I did to my mother one day in the McDonalds drive thru when Elvis came on Gold 104 and inspired my tone deaf Mum to sing, and tell me to shut up because it's so embarrassing. And like my mother did, I will then sing loudly, and badly, into the order microphone and it will serve them right. And they will get no fries with that.