smart

We (I) have decided against putting Jake in a nursery school when he is three. Why, you ask, am I making that decision now? Because any nursery school worth considering has a wait list of at least one year. And Jake will be two in a few weeks.

The nursery schools I've looked into stress letter, number, color, and shape recognition. Jake knows all that, so I don't need to spend $225 a week for my kid to be bored senseless and forced to sit still. Jake is not cute nor pleasant when forced to sit still. Hell hath no fury like that baby contained.

I'm happier with Jake in a home-setting surrounded by children he already knows and a provider he absolutely loves and who loves him back. Or at least really, really likes him. I don't know if day care providers are allowed to love their charges.

And to brag a little because I think that Jake is the smartest one year old in the whole world...

For Jake's time-out to be completely over, he has to take a few deep breaths and count to twenty with one of us. (I say 1, he says 2, I say 3, and so on). Yesterday, Jake counted to 14 all by himself, and he did it pretty damned clear and fast. Dave and I were shocked, and of course Jake won't do it again- until he's under pressure I'm sure. He also knows by sight all of his numbers 1-14 and capital ABC's, whether they are randomly shown to him or lined up in a row. We'll be working on lower cases this month. Should be fun.

Also, I had to take Jake to work with me one night last week. I sent him along with all the other snot monsters to the child care room, which is staffed by a Child Psychologist and a Master's Level primary school teacher (this is why I took him, because the level of care and curriculum is much greater than I would give him at 6.oo pm at home). Jake did well for about a half an hour with the other kids before he started crying for me. The Psych. brought him back to me and asked if she could speak to me privately. I think it is important to note that she didn't know that I wasn't a crackhead, attending parenting classes in an attempt to get my kids who are now wards of the City back. She said that she and the teacher were a little concerned about "the attachment issues that the child was exhibiting. At his age, he should be playing more closely and co-operatively with other children, should be speaking in three or four sentence paragraphs rather than five or six word sentences, and should be more able to be apart from his mother".

I asked her how old she and the teacher thought Jake was. The therapist said that she figured that he was "about four taking into account the special developmental needs of a child in his situation" {read:crackbaby}, but the teacher thought he was closer to three or three and a half because of his height.

I kinda laughed at her, introduced myself and told her my role and title and said that Jacob was not quite two yet, explaining that he is just an overdeveloped little freak. She laughed and I laughed and Jake laughed and I went home. I'd had enough for one day.