2.18.2011

Precocious

Photobucket

When Kevin was a toddler he had a nickname, "The Great Ransacker of the Sky." He got into anything and everything. His parents even tell the story of finding him on top of the refrigerator as a two year old. The refrigerator.

When asked how I was as a child, it was difficult to respond. I was a good kid. I slept a lot, I didn't throw huge tantrums, I understood the word no. But growing up I always felt like I was a little bit different. I had an aunt tell me once when I was feeling out of place with my cousins that I was "precocious." Precocious? I wondered. Sounds good.

I looked it up in the dictionary that evening.

.

pre·co·cious

[pri-koh-shuhs] Show IPA
–adjective
1.
unusually advanced or mature in development, especiallymental development: a precocious child.
2.
prematurely developed, as the mind, faculties, etc.
3.
of or pertaining to premature development.

It is a word I had used ever since to describe myself. A precocious daydreamer. Instead of chasing after boys when I was younger, I read books. Instead of playing frisbee with the neighbors, I locked myself in the below-the-stairs blanket closet and wrote poems and stories, grueling over every word and sentence and comma until my mom came and found me to tell me it was time for dinner.

I'd like to think that I have grown out of my precociousness a little bit. That I am not as high strung as I used to be. That I know how to have fun a little more. But every now and then Kevin will ask me if I want to watch an episode of something or other with him, and I feel frustrated because he interrupted my thoughts. There are times when I get annoyed with my boss for pulling me away from a daydream to fill out a report, or attend a meeting where there are no beautiful words or elegant thoughts.

And so I realize that even though I am an adult now (or at least, pretend to be). I still have that precocious little girl inside somewhere, just yearning for a fierce battle, or perfect haiku, or tragic ending, whatever it is.

photo via

8 comments:

Christa said...

Mandy I love this. It does seem like your thoughts are more poetic and lovely than the rest of us. But I do have to say some of my favorite memories of you are when we were in 9th grade PE together...and you were crazy! haha remember when you called Doan a cat? or when we tackled her. Team Tractor girl! :)

Diana Smith said...

I think its good to have a little bit of precocious in us! I mean who doesn't want to be advanced...I hope you still have some left in you!

The Smith Circle

Kayla said...

This is my first visit to your blog and this post has won me over. I can't relate because I was a wild child but I love your perspective!

Ramblings of a Small Town Girl

Unknown said...

Love this :) I'm working in a preschool right now and I love imagining who these children will grow up to be. We have a lot of precocious little ones and I think they're my favorite :)

Amanda* said...

I was the book reader too :)

Alex said...

Completely identify. I was a very high strung kid, except for around my closest friends. I hated boys for forever and also prefered reading to a lot of other activities.

Priscila said...

I really identify with this! Precocious. I like it.

Brittany said...

You know, I can see you as a little adult. I was similar.

But I fear my dreams stopped growing up around age seven. I still just want ballerinas and ice cream.