Wednesday, February 23, 2011

My Son the Paleontologist

My kid is funny. And charming. And so stinking smart I fear I'll have to stay up nights reading text books when he starts school just so I can keep up. He's also the biggest pain in my ass. I should have foreseen that- after all, he caused a lot of back pain during pregnancy. He also warms my heart. He also caused a lot of heartburn. Coincidence? Probably.

So he's smart.

He wants to be a paleontologist when he grows up. At 3 he's already got a good foundation. Not only can he recognize a Parasaurolophus or a Pachycephalosaurus (damn, you spell check, those are real words!) when he sees one, he can actually SAY pah-ra-sore-OLL-oh-fuss and PACK-ee-sef-ah-low-SORE-us. (We're working on spelling, ha!). So right when I'm wondering how we're going to put this kid through college (and then his brother after him) he tells me he WANTS to be a paleontologist but his body's going to grow up to be a garbage man. And if he's a garbage man he won't need to learn how to read or write or brush his teeth.

So maybe I shouldn't worry about college and financial aid and scholarships just yet and focus on the basics of dental hygiene.