I love it when that happens. 

My in laws were just here this weekend, and they left thinking my kid is a total genius.

Now, of COURSE my kid is a total genius, and of COURSE they are going to think anything he does, short of wiping his own booggers on their shirt, is completely amazing.  They are, after all, his grandparents.  Heck, maybe even his booggers would be cause to reflect on the beauty that is the child’s own secretions.

But what was more interesting was why they thought he was a total genius.  And the things that he did that made them ooh and awe and mentally take note of things they could brag about to their neighbors who are already sick of hearing about wunderkind were, almost inevitably, a result of a lazy or basically lame momma.

For example, my son knows how to play Monopoly.  Not Junior Monopoly.  Monopoly.  He loves the game.  He’s practically obsessed. Why?  Not because he figured out the game all on his own.  It’s because for the longest time, it didn’t even occur to me to get kiddie board games.  He spent a weekend with a friend last spring, and came home asking about board games.  Um, sorry kid, all we’ve got is this big ‘ol boring game called Monopoly.  Well, Ernesto hit, we were stuck at home, and we played Monopoly.  And he won.  Big.  Seriously big.  I landed on Boardwalk with 4 houses, rolled snake eyes, and bam, Mediterranean with another hotel. Totally screwed, and J got particular pleasure from taking everything I owned.  What can I say, he’s a total meglomaniac with a thirst for world domination. 

So now my FIL gets a total kick out of the fact that my son can play Monopoly, and even likes to be the banker.  Ok, never mind that he can’t read or do math beyond 4 +4, which is actually his only real equation that he has to count on his fingers.  Banker he is.  It’s that world domination thing.

Also, he likes to play chess.  That’s totally DH’s doing, because I personally think that game is of the devil.  But again, there are some similarities between chess and Monopoly, most notably that it is possible to crush one’s opponent utterly and completely while you laugh maniacally and say, “Mine, mine, it’s all mine!” and do a little boogie dance of triumph while your opponent suffers because you prolong the inevitable.  Yeah, chess sucks.

Anyway, J still had Grandpa completely wrapped around his little finger on the game front, and Grandpa got snookered into playing a game of chess with his of course obviously brillant grandson.  Of course, Grandpa, not being used to 4 year olds and their tantrums when they lose, played for keeps.  It got pretty ugly, with J left with just a knight and a his King, with Grandpa pretty much supplied with full troops. 

 J looked at Grandpa, and like the true stinker that he is, said, “Grandpa, let’s trade.”

Oh yeah, there’s good sportsmanship for you.  Where’s this kid’s mother, to teach him how to lose gracefully?

He also likes to slide down the bannister, butt first.  Sometimes naked, which he then announces to the world is harder to do because his privates stick to the wood.  Do the grandparents think this is poor manners, that his mother should have been better about teaching him about not running around naked, and, more importantly, to avoid conversations about sticky genitalia? 

Absolutely not.  They chalk the outlandish behavior up to his incredible athletic ability.  Clearly, a boy headed for the Olympics.  I love it.