Baby Einstein

It has been a nightly ritual that, after I give Dylan her bath and towel her dry, I let her run naked around the house until Regina, disapproving, diapers and pajamas her. This has gone swimmingly until, about a week ago, Dylan added "pee on the rug" as part of her path from tub to Mommy.

At first I was bothered, mostly because I got the "I told you so" look from Regina and also because I had to clean it up. But then I realized that peeing like an old tom cat around our home is a fine example of the genius of our daughter.

Really? you ask. Yes, I shout. Why are you shouting? you ask. I don't remember, I say. What were we talking about? Oh yeah, how a urine soaked carpet equates to intellectual prowess. Here's the theory: Dylan is choosing to NOT soil her bathing/drinking water (we'll address drinking bath water later). Most kids pee in the tub. I did. You certainly did. But super-genius children pee on the rug, outside the tub.

Okay, I see you're still skeptical. Let me give you another example. Dylan can count. Well, we say, "One!" and she says, "Two," and then we say, "Three!" then Dylan says, "TWO!" Maybe I shouldn't brag about her counting, but she knows that two follows one. I'm not sure Stephen Hawking knew that at her age.

Here's my favorite example of her genius. Dylan pretends a metal banana is a phone. "Hello, Ju-ju," she says, cradling the phone, I mean banana, between her shoulder and ear. I'm not going to explain why we have a metal banana, but Dylan's sense of humor (the banana-phone is far more comically advanced than the "pull-finger-fart" trick) is clearly a sign of advanced critical thinking skills.

We tried to convince our neighbor, Jim, that we were living with a Super-Genius. We even showed him the counting thing. He wasn't convinced. And then he told us we didn't want a Super-Genius child. Because three's a crowd? I offered. No. How about social awkwardness, depression, obsession with Dungeons and Dragons, crushes on Carl Sagan, and wedgies? And that's just junior high.

Tonight, Dylan took her bath, drank the bath water, and held out her arms when she was ready to get out. Just before I pulled her from the tub, she peed. Not on the floor, but in the water, once her bath was done. Brilliant! No clean up for me, no slipping in a puddle of pee for her. She might be proving Jim wrong. "Good skills," I told Dylan. "Two!" she replied.