I’m not a morning person; however, this fact isn’t relevant to my boy who wakes up before 7:00 am to talk to me about silicone.
I hear him calling for me to come to his room. I get up and try to muster up a smile when it takes too much energy to be upright and walk.
I say, “Good morning, my son…”
As my mouth moves, my brain thinks: Coffee. Coffee. Why doesn’t he know it’s Saturday?
Already his brain has started…
“Do you know that silicone is plastic or rubber or something flexible? Did you know that it’s important in my new game? Can I tell you the three most important things about silicone?”
All of these words are thrown at me without pause while I’m still trying to stand with eyes open.
Without waiting for my response, he begins to answer his own questions. I can’t tell you exactly what he said, my eyes were open, but I wasn’t awake still.
As he hops out of bed, I try to engage, “I think that’s an element on the periodic table…” I grab up my phone to confirm my thought. I was wrong. That’s silicon.
“Really?” He says. “Are you sure?”
He is now brushing his teeth but stops mid-brush because he wants more information. Brushing his teeth requires too much time in his eyes at this moment when he sees that I’ve gone to my phone for our answers.
“Finish brushing and I’ll look…”
I discover where the differences between silicon and silicone are shared and I begin to read out loud.
I share three or four sentences while he’s getting ready. I stop because…well… How much do you need to know about the difference between silicon and silicone on a Saturday morning?
That’s the true difference between highly gifted and highly not.
“Keep reading!” He says while he’s getting dressed. This information is quickly being processed, connected, inventoried for later use.
His talking continues, rapidly and expressively. He doesn’t seem to notice that I’m not mentally ready for any of this, all of this, quite yet.
“Race you down the stairs!” He giggles and runs straight for his computer.
He’s got to know that I’m not going to be racing.
Within minutes, he’s talking about the game that he downloaded yesterday about underwater discoveries.
“Come see what I’m doing! You will love it!”
I made my way down the stairs but instead of a computer, I’m on the couch. I want to go back to bed, but instead I walk back and stand behind him.
“Aren’t these graphics amazing?!” He begins to tell me facts about his game which he takes seriously. As serious as a grad student, an investigator, a researcher searching for cures.
I say out loud, “coffee…”
“Mama, you are so funny.”
I didn’t say it to be funny. I said it out of necessity.
By 8:00 am, he has played this game, searched YouTube for more information, checked out a tutorial video, played a different game, and is now online killing zombies with an Xbox Live friend who sounds like he is full of vim and vigor too.
People tell me that teenagers sleep in, I have to say that won’t be a bad thing when we get there. In our house, maybe that would be 7:30 am.