We are currently working on not letting him know that he is really smart for several reasons. First, I don't want him to ever think that he is better than anyone else for any reason, academically or otherwise. Second, and this reason ties in with the first, I don't want him to realize that his parents are two people he is undoubtedly going to be smarter than. Yes, I realize that we are living on borrowed time with this resolution, but I am going to hang on to my superior intelligence for as long as humanly possible. Luckily at age four, we aren't dealing with any smart alecky-ness yet. It is pretty much a straight forward case of our child is mentally gaining on us and no matter how much sudoku and Words with Friends Matt and I play, we are just not making enough headway.
Unfortunately, his intelligence means that I have to be super specific when laying down the rules around our house. He is literally the most literal kid I have ever met, it is much more likely for something to go over my head than his. For example, right now we are focusing on a "no climbing on chairs" rule at our house. Connor had gotten into the bad habit of pushing over a chair anytime he wanted something he couldn't reach in the kitchen or playroom. Well, this set a dangerous precedent. Before we knew it, baby brother, copycat extraordinaire was pushing and climbing right alongside his big brother minus the superior height and balance. After several real and near miss falls, we had to enact a moratorium on chair climbing. We cut them off cold turkey. If Connor couldn't reach it from his already unnaturally tall height, it wasn't meant to be.
It was going pretty well, after a few reminders and some alone time to think about what they had done wrong, it seemed like the had reconciled themselves to being earthbound. Yesterday, I was in the kitchen and the boys were in the playroom when I heard some weird grunting and talking. I walked in to discover Connor trying to hoist his little brother up above his head in order to make him grab something from the top shelf of our 6 foot high bookcase (which luckily is screwed into the studs). Connor kept saying, "Reach Mushy, get the firetruck puzzle. Try harder Mushy!! I need it. Use your arms!" Hudson, in true Mushy fashion,.
was just waving his arms around above his head and yelling out, "Kay, kay, kay guy, kay!" He wasn't even close to the firetruck puzzle and I am positive that he had no idea what he was doing up there. He is just game for anything that his brother suggests without thought to his own personal safety.
The pair of them looked ridiculous. Connor weighs 39 pounds soaking wet, but he is scrappy, and I was a little impressed that he managed to get at least half of Hudson's body lifted above shoulder level. But feats of strength aside, I told him to set his brother down and come have a conference with me. I asked him why he thought it was okay to use his brother as a human claw to reach things on high shelves. His response, "Well, mommy you told us that we couldn't climb on chairs anymore." And so I did. I completely forgot to consult with my attorney and add in more specific conditions such as, no using your brother as your own personal robot arm. His closing argument on his way to the time out step: "But Mommy, Mushy wanted to help me." Yes son, your one year old brother who likes to eat ketchup out of a bowl with a spoon would agree to jumping off our house if his big Bubby thought it would be fun. That didn't help his case.
So, did he literally break our rule? Nope. But if the devil is in the details, Mommy is now in possession of the pitch fork. I did, however, have to give him some secret points for creativity.
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