When Jay was little, he was such a funny kid. If I told him to stop being fresh, he would look at me and say "I'm fresh and juicy." I have no idea where he came up with this, but it cracked me up every time.
He was also smart as a whip. Starting when he was about 9 mos. old, we would sit together and play kiddie games on the computer - he was fascinated by the computer even then. One day, when he was about 18 mos. old, I got up and left him playing by himself to use the bathroom. While in the bathroom, I heard "*ding ding ding* You've got mail!" I hollered to him, "Jay, what are you doing?" He replied, "I'm getting your mail, Momma." Not only had he shut down the game we were playing, he'd gone into AOL and logged onto my email with my password and retrieved my email. At 18 months! I was astounded.
He started spontaneously reading at 2 years old. To this day, I have no idea how he did it, but one day we were driving down the highway and a Hood Milk truck passed us. "Hood Milk. It does a body good," he chirped from the backseat. I remember my husband turning to me and saying, "You let him watch too much television." I knew that wasn't the case, so I asked what the next sign we passed said. Jay read it. And he read everything else we pointed out to him. Not only that, he knew numbers. We discovered he could count to 100 and beyond! Oh, my boy was brilliant.
At 2 yrs., 4 mos., he wrote his name on the wall. By the time he was 2 yrs., 9 mos., he was writing me notes. "I love you, Momma." He wouldn't even entertain using crayons to color, but he could write - and he could draw. He loved to draw pictures of Inspector Gadget, with all kinds of elaborate devices attached to him.
Despite that high intelligence, there was another side to Jay. At our local play gym program, if he was bumped by another child, he would go ballistic. He loved the teacher and followed her rules to the T most of the time, but would freak out with some activities and throw tantrums that made me cringe. He loved making crafts with me, but couldn't stand anything sticky on his skin. Glue was an absolute deal breaker. It made him crazy.
He didn't like the radio. If I put on music, he would scream like he was being murdered, storm over and shut it off. He didn't like "kersplunchity food" like McDonald's chicken nuggets. He didn't like being held. But he would back into my lap and let me wrap my arms around him in a bear hug when he wanted it. He would turn lights on and off, or open and close cabinet doors over and over, usually rapidly blinking his eyes while he did it. He would buzz things back and forth in front of his face in an arc. Over and over.
I talked to family members. I talked to the play gym teacher. I talked to my husband. I talked to the pediatrician. They all said the same thing - I worried to much. He was fine. He was a boy. I was being a worry wart...or in the case of the pediatrician, a nervous mother. I needed to chill out. He was fine.
By two, his language was so extensive he sounded like an adult. I didn't use baby talk with him. You can't use baby talk with a toddler who wants to discuss the human genome.
One day, we were at the bookstore and we were discussing molecules and atoms. He was about three years old. An elderly woman was watching us out of the corner of her eye, a smile on her face. She walked over to me and said, "Oh my goodness, he's so smart." I proudly said, "Yes, he is." "How old is he?" she asked. I told her. I could tell she was impressed. Then she turned to Jay, leaned down to his level and in a sing-song voice started talking baby-talk to him. He looked at her from his stroller and I could see how angry he was. "Don't talk to me like that! I'm not stupid," he snapped. (I kid you not - those were his words.) She reeled back like he'd hit her, turned to me and in the most austere, angry voice she could muster said, "What a nasty rude little brat. If he was mine, I'd smack him good." She leaned down and said to him, "You're a very bad boy." I was so shocked, I froze. She stormed off. Jay started to cry. We had to leave the store because he was so distraught, saying over and over, "I'm a bad boy. I'm a bad boy."
Yeah.
It was my introduction into what our lives would become.
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