Forgive the cross posting, but I am excited about the publication of my first real single author publication. Click here to read the post.

My mother was an artist when she was younger. For years I had a sculpture she made in high school, I remember paintings she use to do, and in the ’70s she use to airbrush Harley gas tanks (yes, for motorcycles. yes, my mother). Her artistry rubbed off on me, albeit my medium of choice is oils. I love the way I can mix the colors on the canvas and create whatever’s in mind. I am unsurprised that Claire’s got the same flair. Don’t get me wrong her Mama’s got some, too, but Claire’s beginning young. Yeah, I know, all kids play with crayons and such, but there’s something a bit different with how Claire does her art. Something more familiar like watching yourself from outside your body far far ago.

Last week we were in my classroom, and Claire drew across my entire board as high as she could reach. She then turned to me and asked how to spell her friend Eli’s name. I told her, and she proceeded to write "Claire" and then "Eli". I even love the little stick man in between the two. This amazes me. She’s three, folks. I don’t remember doing quite this well in ’77.

We had Claire at SwimKidsUSA almost every day or every other day for the last week or so. She was struggling with her swim class, and we got her a new teacher. I don’t think it was her current teacher at all, but she just readily seemed to click with this other instructor. While we were there watching Claire run from swim to gym to the playgrounds, my mother-in-law mentioned that Claire never slows down. Never.

I just looked at her, thinking. Suddenly I began to agree. Yes, I understood that. Just that day I was asked to teach a course, and I wholeheartedly agreed. Donna was less than happy, and I was surprised. It was more money for our family, and I didn’t think it was much more work. I began to try to put myself in Claire’s perspective. My brain is always going. I’ve got list after list of things I want to do, projects I am working on, articles I plan to write, courses I plan to develop. I have 35 books on a shelf I plan to read sooner than later. I have projects all over this place, and that’s even before I get to my home improvement ideas. It’s as if I cannot turn my mind off. I can’t say no, and I can’t slow down. I just keep going.

I wonder if Claire’s the same as me. This whole concept struck something from my mind from year’s ago. When I studied gifted education, I studied people who were just like this (and no I’m not some parent shouting from the roof tops that my kid’s gifted!) but I see signs I see in myself. My mother-in-law sees signs in Claire that she saw in Danny, my brother-in-law, when he was young. I think about people like Danny and others. Gifted kids who didn’t get the support they needed or the resources they unknowingly desired, and how do we serve them? How do we help them? How do we keep Claire loving everything without destroying that creativity, that drive that ambition? I still can’t answer for me, so what do I do for her?

This is wild. Talk about things coming around. I’m not going to run out to buy concert tickets, but there was a time in my life when my parents were building our grape arbor. I’d skate all night long with friends and my cousin, I had my first ear piercing, and New Kids on the Block were HOT! I loved listening, and, in secret, I still do. I love tossing on "Right Stuff" or singing in my fake high voice to "Didn’t I Blow Your Mind?". Now it’s been 15 years. YES, FIFTEEN YEARS. Yes, I am getting older, and they are back. I remember when Meatloaf returned. And now I am going to remember when NKOTB (as they were later called to look cooler) returned.  So here’s the video. Enjoy.

We brought Claire home from day care at the beginning of spring break, and since she wasn’t returning to the two year old room they gave me all her stuff. When I got home and began doing laundry of clothes I forgot my kid owned because they were at day care for so long, I found an olive green very boy-looking sweat shirt. When the day care woman came to babysit over break, I asked her whose shirt she sent home. She matter-of-factly answered "Vinni’s". She’d sent home the sweatshirt of the little boy about whom my daughter could not stop talking. They were inseparable before Vinni moved into the three year room in January. I chuckled nervously and just tossed it on her floor.

Today Claire went to the three year old room officially as we returned from break (when I picked her up she and Vinni were sitting having a snack together), and tonight she jumped into her bed, grabbed Vinni’s sweatshirt off of her floor and cuddled up with it. She told me she didn’t need her regular blanket because she had his shirt. Hmmm…

Donna’s gone back to school. I know she won’t tell herself, but my wife has finally decided to pursue her master’s degree, and she’s been accepted into a program in Organizational Psychology. I’ve always been a workaholic (Thanks, Dad), and she’s warned me that now while she’s in school I need to spend a ton more time being the primary parent with Claire, our 2 1/2 year old. I’ve wholeheartedly agreed since I’ve had my Masters for almost a decade now and think everyone should continue their schooling. Now that she’s begun to work on classes (and school doesn’t even officially begin until March) I see the differences by what she means by primary parent and what I mean by that. She pretty much wants me to do a ton, and as Claire moves toward her third birthday in April she’s not getting any less two-ish. We decided that she may just be totally bored because she’s so damn smart. These gifted kids are bored at school and home because people do not challenge them, and we already know she’s gifted. (That’s got nothing to do with my 100+ post-grad credits in Gifted Education either!). So I am damn proud of my wife getting into grad school, and I now have to juggle being a workaholic with two jobs, a human being, and the father (primary parent) of a very precocious little girl.