I'm telling ya, if there is anything as cool as seeing the boy find the belly button on verbal cue (even if I said, "Nose"), I'm already geeking out in anticipation.
But something tells me that being a teacher-as-parent-as-teacher will be a pretty cool thing down the road, too, especially as a few of these soon-to-be educational icons come our way:
- helping him know how to color between the lines and glue popsicle stick houses together,
- prepping his entry out in the garage for the Boy Scouts Pinewood Derby,
- backyard throwing a decent split-finger fastball to give him an edge when gym class gets serious,
- watching him build that Brady-Bunch-esque 'live' volcano for the science fair,
- dealing with frustrating cursive writing lessons in advance of the teacher tap, tap, tapping her ruler against the edge of a wooden desk nearby on quiz day,
- heading to the library to research a poster-board report on ice melt patterns in Antarctica,
- figuring out the difference -- is there one? -- between a cosine and sine 'thing',
- doing a few walk through practice sessions on the fireplace step in the living room as he prepares his killer "Allegory of the Cave" debate team speech, and
- hefting mega-dictionary volumes in order to memorize obscure Latin references to ace the SAT
And if it turns out that the belly button thing really ended up being better-than-school in the end, he'll be of age and can drop out of college to spend time as a nomad seeking true enlightenment in the center of his navel.
And I'll have unapologetic permission to finally toss the remains of that ratty-ol' volcano project still taking up vital storage space in my attic in the trash.