The Texas Look and My Boy Genius

If you're a first time reader, catch up on Red Thing March here.

Okay so let me set the scene for you. You've been invited to some sort of hoedown or you have to take your kid to the Mother and Son Cowboy Chili Cook Off or you've recently started dating a Texan. Trouble is, you have nothing in your wardrobe that even resembles "southern attire" so what the heck are you gonna do? But you see my friends, that is the sheer beauty of Magic Scarf. Even if your invitation to the Hoedown was lost in the mail and you only learned of your desired presence an hour before the event is scheduled to commence, you can fall back on your trusty Thing. Slap on a pair of jeans, find your southernmost looking boots, stick a piece of hay in your mouth (if hay is not readily available, a toothpick will work almost as well) and tie up your Thing as such:

The outfit is truly complete if you have a cowboy hat but it's alright if you don't, just make your hair really really big. It's hard to believe that wondrous piece of material can be both a skirt and a bandanna isn't it? Once again I apologize for the frightening picture of me.
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I have decided that my son is a genius inflicted with Einstein Syndrome. This is, of course, the only logical explanation for his lack of verbal skills. He does not come from a quiet home. His father and I are always talking to him, always asking him to repeat things, always encouraging speech. He might have ten words. Actually, I think he has about 200, he just doesn't say them. He can follow such commands as "Take the Q-tip into the bathroom and put it in the trash can." He did it this morning. Well, truthfully he first put it into his potty chair but when I then said, "Take the Q-tip out of the potty chair and put it in the trash can." He did. At his 18 month check up, his pediatrician seemed mildly concerned about his lack of language and, unbeknownst to me, put the boy through several baseline tests for autism declaring, at the end of her exam, "Well at this point I don't think he's autistic." Given his babbling, pointing, grunting, grabbing our hands and leading us around the world and back, sound effects for cars, planes, dogs, cats, incessant desire to play peekaboo or basketball or chase-me-and-catch-me-and-I-will-crack-up-hysterically, I kind of don't really think so either. Never really crossed my mind, actually. Therefore, the only other logical explanation is that the poor child has Einstein Syndrome. Here are some signs of the syndrome:

*Parents who are highly intelligent (well then, clearly. Ahem.)
*Strong musical gifts (this kid has loved music since day one, can keep a beat with his foot, points to the radio when we get in the car and makes a backseat ruckus until we turn it on, and is obsessed with the musical instruments, especially the piano, at church)
*Many relatives who are musicians (I could have been a musician. You know, if I'd ever taken a lesson in my life. Troy played the piano. Otherwise, um, this one is not so indicative of Garrett's genius)
*Delayed toilet training abilities (Great!)
*Strong Willed (oh is he ever!)
*Outstanding Memory (it's hard to tell with a one year old but when we take him to my dad's work, he walks down the hall, turns the corner, and goes straight into his office. And he's only been there a few times.)

Maybe he's just a late talker. But, for the time being, I prefer to assume he's a boy genius.