The Big Little Kid

When we took the dog in for the contractually-mandated check-up this week, I had Mal sit on the animal scale. He weighs 38 pounds, which is off the charts for his age, and is the 100th percentile for a new 3-year-old. Oh, and everyone at the vet's office thought he was a girl. We get that a lot.

An early-morning lie-in with all the gang.

Today at storytime, the librarian asked me when Mal would turn 3. When I said, "Late September," she sounded surprised. "Oh! He's just two; he's very smart."

While it's a maternal instinct to glow with pride at this sort of statement, I have to wonder: What qualifies a 2-year-old as "smart"? That he knows colors? That he appropriately asks, "Are you nervous?" That he knows only to eat glue when grown-ups aren't looking? That he can play the violin? Seriously, what's "smart," really, for any kid?

I'm a firm believer that everyone has areas in which they are just more impressive at things than others in their peer group. Some of those things are less overt, or just not too sexy, so don't seem as impressive. But when that adorable 5-year-old can sit in the chair next to Ellen and talk about the chemical properties of nitrous oxide, that makes people sit up and notice. "She's so smart!"

But, as good as she is at memorizing, and how I hope she actually has fun "learning" that stuff, does that mean she's any smarter than the kid who eats glue whether grown-ups are watching or not? And, even if a kid is smarter than the average kid, does that even matter? Are they happier? Are they going to have a better life? Are they going to be more empathetic?

I guess, to me, "smartness" is kind of like "beauty." Okay, but kind of ho-hum. There are lots of things I'd rather my kids be than "smart." I mean, smart's fine, too. But altruistic, helpful, generous, hard-working, honest, sincere... There are just a lot of things that mean more to me.

Oh, and funny. That's a big one. Fortunately, I hit the jackpot on that one with this little guy. As much as he exhausts me, he also cracks me up multiple times a day. It almost makes up for how tired I am.

No, it doesn't. I'm going to bed.