I hate to even say this, but I think my daughter may be gifted. I know. I know. Saying you think your kid is gifted is the married with children equivalent of a bachelor saying “I think that stripper really liked me.” All your friends nod their heads at you and smile, but as soon as you leave to go back to the ATM they are laughing behind your back.
Why do I think my daughter is gifted you didn’t ask?
She uses reverse psychology and trickery.
She’s like a maniacal, cute toddler Rumpelstiltskin. A maniacutoddlerstilskin. Say that a few times. It’s kind of fun. Ma-nia-cu-toddler-stilskin. See? Fun.
But seriously, just talking to my daughter is a trap. She looks cute, and innocent, but she is only two and she knows exactly how to get what she wants. Example:
“What’s that honey?”
“Smo..poo…shees? I don’t know what that means.”
“OK!!! Yay!!!!!!!” And then she runs to the refrigerator.
Do you see what she did there? The little shit pretended to not know how to pronounce “cheese” to trick me into saying it first. Then, when I’m at my most vulnerable, which is when I am reveling in my ability to interpret toddler gibberish, she takes advantage of my good nature and tricks me into giving her string cheese. And I never see it coming. She uses this technique every day – and not just for food! She gets whatever she wants, not by asking for it, but by tricking me into offering it. I’m sure this skill will serve her well later in life, but for now I’m just avoiding talking to her before she somehow gets my car keys. On to the next example…
She knows all of her letters and sounds.
This was really really cool at first. Remember how a long time ago I mentioned that my daughter and I used to sing the ABC’s in our short car rides to Grandma’s house? Well, she doesn’t need my help now. She powers right through them. She even gets the LMNOP part right. I don’t even get the LMNOP part right. I just pretend to and mumble my way through it the same way I do during the parts of the National Anthem I don’t know. “OH SAY CAN YOU SEE, BY THE MMMhmmmMMMM LIGHT!!”
I digress. Letters. She knows them, which is awesome and great, but now she wants to spell every word in every book we read. This has actually caused us to move backwards on our reading list because I don’t have two hours to read "Are You My Mother?" every night before bed. So we’re back to books with one or two words per page like "Go, Dog. Go!".
And finally… numbers.
She’s got them up to 30, which is great until you are behind her going up a set of stairs carrying something heavy. She has to stop on every single one and count it. We have twelve by the way. We also have three doors in the basement, four throw pillows, two windows and one "amooonaman" (Ottoman).
So there you go. Gifted. Or, if you consult Dr. Google like I unfortunately did, she is either autistic or has early onset schizophrenia. Dammit Dr. Google. You’re the worst doctor ever.
Anyway, I doubt it’s either of those, and she’s probably not “gifted” either. Every kid goes at their own pace. My kid may know her numbers, colors, ABC’s and advanced CIA Interrogation techniques, but she can’t run to save her life. And if she tries to throw a ball it actually goes backwards. And maybe I’m just seeing things that aren’t there while my peers laugh at my naiveté. Oh well, better my kid than a stripper. Now there’s a sentence I never thought I’d write.
P.S. Here's one more piece of video evidence.