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Chimpanzee offers proof of genius
By Debbie Farmer
I recently read an article in a parenting magazine about how a child's IQ is formed at an early age. It stated that a child could become the next Einstein by being exposed to stimulating experiences and an enriching environment. This idea intrigued me, since I was still trying to teach my 5-year-old daughter to pronounce "yes," and my 2-year-old son not to eat dry cat food. I decided to try some of the suggestions the day my son tried to take flight off the living room sofa by flapping the TV Guide.
I called my plan "Operation: But Why." I would answer my children's questions honestly and in great detail, with no made-up answers or daddy referrals. Every inquiry would be treated as a new learning opportunity. The morning began easy enough.
"Why are we having eggs again?" my daughter asked.
Here was my opportunity. "Because they are a source of protein," I said.
"But, why?"
I thought for a moment. "The yolk supplies iron to your blood."
Her mouth dropped. "Bu--"
"This increases the amount of white blood cells to fight infection," I said.
My children stared at me as if I had just said, "I am a turkey. Please pass the galoshes, I want to eat a pickle." I quickly reverted to preschool English. "And because I said so."
"Oh, OK." They nodded and sat down at the table.
The next day I decided to narrow my focus and concentrate on natural science. I took them to the zoo to study the animals. I thought they could observe nature while I worked in a few facts on evolution and Darwin's theory of natural selection. Our first stop was the ape exhibit.
"Look!" I pointed to a group of chimpanzees sitting in the shade under a tree. "Scientists think apes may be our distant ancestors from thousands of years ago. Can you see any similarities in our hands?" I waited as my children leaned over the rail to watch. "The chimpanzees are thought to be the most intelligent of apes."
"Look, Mom!" my daughter excitedly pointed to the animals.
I felt pleased my children accepted my lesson so enthusiastically.
"The monkey's going poo-poo in a bag!" She squinted and leaned closer. "Gross."
The next day I decided to go on an intellectual journey, so we took a field trip to the local library. My son thought it was a new type of playground with shelves. I hadn't been there since my daughter turned 3 and wet her pants in the Dr. Seuss section after refusing to leave the water fountain.
I tricked my children into sitting down at a table to hear a story by telling them I gave our order to the woman behind the counter, and our pizza would be ready any minute. I found several educational books and began reading The Life of the Stump Slug while my son used the Bernstein Bears series as weapons to throw at his sister, who kept calling him a chimp. When I was finished I helped my children carry their books to the checkout desk, since they wanted to borrow as many noneducational stories as they could find.
When we finally got home all I could do was sit on the sofa, shell-shocked, as if I had just returned from battle. In between humming, I'd sporadically blurt out scientific facts to the air, and I had a discussion on the theory of relativity with the halogen lamp. My daughter brought me my slippers, and my son crawled on my lap and handed me a picture book he had borrowed from the library.
"Mommy, read." He pointed to the cover.
"Cinderella," my daughter said. "Yeah!"
I opened the book and began the story. By the time I reached "happily ever after," I had recovered and we discussed glass slippers, fairy godmothers and how mice turn into coachmen.
As I closed the book, I decided my children might not grow up to be nuclear physicists or rocket scientists, but they'd be experts on wishes, fairy magic and happy endings--that's good enough for me.
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Willow Glen, California Since 1992
