Rocks for Jocks

Back when I was on sabbatical, I took Natesy on a date to a kid gym where there were all sorts of play structures and climbing apparatus and two-thirds of the class was named Jagger.  One of the moms told me Nate was clearly going to be a jock because he refused to do any of the activities except repeat the word “ball” one hundred times and roll them around in an attempt to bowl over other kids and trip their mommies.  She kind of had a point.

Then almost a week ago we got a group text from Miss Dulce with the following picture and a message: He loves rocks.  Nate impresses me.  He is so good at math I’m doing an observation on him that I’ll share later.

Huh?  Now I have absolutely no idea what impressive math skills a two-year-old is able to demonstrate as he lays around on the concrete lining-up rocks.

Does it matter?  Every parent wants to get a text about their kid saying they have some trait that seems genetically impossible given that numbers don’t come naturally to my immediate family.  Even if he isn’t mathematically predisposed, just thinking it probably ups his chances dramatically.

And given that he is only now putting together sentences, notwithstanding “I did it,” I would be so excited if he was quantitatively inclined.  By the way, he has two new sentences:  “I don’t know” and tonight, after a howl from James, “I ba da.”

“What?  You bit daddy?”

“Yeah.”

Tonight I quizzed his counting on our way home from Pasta P.  I can say every other number and he’ll say the right one that comes after it, all the way to twelve.  Who knew?

I did take two geology classes in college… he must get it from me.