Precocious. Huh?

When E.R. was a toddler Grandma B. called him "precocious". I tried to smile and agree thinking she'd just criticized my child. And for what? I didn't know. He wasn't doing anything particularly obnoxious at the time.

Later, I looked the word up in the dictionary. "Precocious" means "bright"--something, apparently, I am not. Despite his mother's less than stellar aptitudes, E.R. has lived up to Grandma B.'s assessment.

He loves school. Last week he woke up vomiting. I told him he would need to stay home from school. He broke down into sobs. He was sure he'd miss a fun project if he stayed home, he said.

He loves to write notes to family and friends. Most of these letters consist of some sort of paper creation. I have snipets of paper all over my house as he cuts and pastes his latest projects. Lately, he's taken to making Ben 10 watches--remarkable copies, really. We've each, generously, received many prototypes. I went to bed the other night thinking there was something strange about my pajama sleeve only to discover I hadn't removed his latest model. Shhh...Santa found a real Ben 10 watch on Amazon.

He's also extremely loving and a great big brother. He left a lot of friends behind when we moved. Friends he misses very much. He doesn't seem to mind letting A.M. fill in the gaps, even though she's only two.

I get too impatient too often with him. I'm writing this to remind myself how great I've got it when I feel myself losing my cool. I really love this kid!