9-5-79 9:38PM
Happy birthday! Here we are again, another year gone, another year here. Where has the time gone?
I'd better be careful; in a few years, you might just try to answer that question for me. You're certainly smart enough to do it. I should know--I have written proof, right here in black and white. You'll never see this piece of paper, so you'll just have to trust your mama on this one.
Last week, I took you to see some new doctors, a whole group of them, not because you were sick but because you're special and I want to know as much about your intellect as possible. The doctors took you into a room with a low table and small chairs, and we watched you through a two-way mirror as they talked to you for a little while and then asked you to do several things. We were there for a few hours, and they were very nice--they even found a snack for you after you finished their games. They said that they'd never had a child finish more quickly, or ask so many questions. Considering that they were testing your IQ, they sure had a lot of questions for me. They grilled me for over an hour about your first years of life, about the family and the house, about what I ate and drank and listened to and read and did when I was pregnant with you, about your father and your brother and your father's family and my family and everyone else's test scores--I think they even asked about your grandmother's hair rinse. They were determined to figure out what makes you so special, so incredibly smart and quick. I understand why they're asking, but 'why' has never been all that important to me.
You see, I've always known that you were special. I had a feeling even before you were born, one of those things that only a mother gets. Of course, you're special to me just because you're my little boy, but this is different--I can't explain it, and I know how inexplicable things drive you bananas; sorry, kid.
Anyway, the doctor made a copy of his paper for me, and I locked it away in a safe place; I'm sure that your score will get out, I'm sure that you'll find out someday soon, but for now, your IQ is locked away with your brother's. That's right--I had him tested when he was a little older than you are now because I'd noticed something about him. I locked his score away and told him that Mama was just curious how he'd do with some special games, which was true; I locked your score away for one very specific reason. You already eat, sleep, and breathe numbers like your brother eats, sleeps, and breathes action, and the two of you are already starting to have trouble with each other. You think of yourself and everything around you in math terms. You keep trying to quantify your brother, and that drives him crazy. I don't want the two of you fighting. He loves you more than anything in the world and he is very protective of you, and you are just fascinated with everything he does, always trying to copy him. I never want you two to lose that. You're both very smart in your own ways. We spend a lot of time with you, Charlie, and your math is such a big deal around here already, and you're even about to have some teachers of your very own to help you do even more with it—Donny's okay, he'll understand, he knows you're special, but this thing has to have limits. I won't let a number define how you and your brother see each other and yourselves. I love you too much for that, and I know how much you want him to like you and think you're cool; you're always playing with his things. Don't worry about him getting upset with you for that, sweetheart; he likes to have something that's just his, but someday he'll remember that you are his. In fact, I think that, someday, he's going to be your best friend. Won't that be fun?
Ah, you'll have to forgive my mama-dreaming; I just love you so much, my little smartypants, and I want everything to work out perfectly for you!
And I'd love to continue to gush, but you somehow managed to sneak an extra piece of birthday cake just before bedtime (I smell a brother,) and I'm sure your daddy could use a hand getting you off the walls and into bed.
Happy birthday, baby!