My Son’s A Genius

Oh yes, most parents are quick to boast their claims of intelligence on their children. It’s natural, I think, and of course, most people who actually know the child in question will smile and nod as not to insult the parent. Since I am technically the only one who “knows” Jackson right now, I can claim that he is smarter than the average baby and you are just going to have to believe me. Don’t worry, though – he’ll prove me right. You’ll see. But you might be wondering why I say Jack is so smart. Well, I have one word for you: Rice. My son doesn’t like rice (see previous posts) and he cannot be fooled.

Saturday night, we had a lovely dinner with our friends Rey and Heather, who are expecting their own bundle of joy in August! (BTW, my new “thing” is to encourage all my almost-ready-to-be-parent friends to become parents-to-be. I think it’s one of those annoying pregnancy side effects, but more on that later…) We were at this delicious Italian restaurant called Dominick’s in Buford. I mean, the food was to die for good! In looking over the menu, there were lots and lots of yummy choices – ravioli, chicken parm, rigatoni – but in the end I decided to get the risotto. Oh man, I love risotto. The creamy texture and the flavor – so yummy! Oh yes, this was going to be a good dinner. And it was. It was so good. We had a wonderful dinner with great friends and I was full and happy.

Until about an hour after we got home. Then I got sick. I mean, throwing up, crying, hurts so bad sick. I couldn’t figure it out. I didn’t feel sick at all during the day. My sickness had come on quickly that it reminded me of…morning sickness. But I’m like 26 weeks pregnant! I shouldn’t have morning sickness! What the French Toast???? About 20 minutes or so into my vomiting spell, with my loving husband holding back my hair and rubbing my back, it hit me. “Chris,” I said, “Risotto is rice, isn’t it?” His eyes got big and said, “Yes, it is.” We both knew that rice is on my no-no list. Jackson reminded us why. He doesn’t like rice. You can fancy it up and call it something different. Doesn’t matter. He knows and he doesn’t like it, which means I can’t eat it.

And that’s why my son is a genius.