Over the weekend, C. explained to me that a number of countries are considered to be part of both Europe and Asia (and he listed those countries, of course); he named all the countries that were once part of Yugoslavia; he informed me that Zaire no longer exists (something I didn’t know — I’m not exactly an expert at current political events); and he quizzed me about which Scandinavian country owns the most territories (I failed).

In case you can’t tell, C. is currently into maps.

He has state maps, country maps, world atlases. Road maps, political maps, physical maps. Fold-out maps from AAA, books full of maps, and playing cards with maps on them. He has spent his allowance on maps, and he’s “inherited” maps from Chad’s car. Even his third-grade teacher, when cleaning her house last week, called me to see if C. would like a geography book that she’d found.

When C. finds a topic that interests him, he dives in completely. He immerses himself in information, finding out everything he possibly can about that subject. Some might call him obsessive, but I like to call him wholehearted. He doesn’t do it halfway; he’s consumed, enthralled, committed.

C. has always been this way. When he was four years old, he could tell you more than you ever wanted to know about our Solar System, including weather patterns on Neptune and how many moons each planet had (and many of their names).

At age five, he could identify any car on the road based on the mere glimpse of that car’s taillights. Make & model, and a rough estimate of the year.

I have to admit that I’ve contributed to C.’s topic-immersion. I’m always happy to provide a book or two on the subject du jour, to encourage a love of reading. And the truth is, I’m a bit of a research nerd myself — I’ve been known to learn every little detail about whatever interests me at the moment. Google is my friend and I often tell my husband, Chad, “I speak the language that search engines understand.”

Though I sometimes get exasperated when C. wants to quiz me for the 100th time on facts I can’t possibly know (since I haven’t been reading Time for Kids World Atlas every night before bed), I love seeing this aspect of him. I wonder where this drive to research and learn will lead him. I watch to see what the next topic will be. I think that this wholeheartedness will serve him well in life.

And one thing’s for sure: I wholeheartedly love him.

L. rarely says “No.”

I am almost always guaranteed to get a very loud and emphatic “NO” whenever I suggest that it might be time for bed or a nap. That “No” is often accompanied by tears and a toddler running in the opposite direction. Suggesting that it’s time to come in from the great outdoors also results in a “no.”

But other than that, he’s usually very agreeable. I suppose I should be thankful for that. After all, the “terrible twos” are frequently dominated by the word “No.”

However, constant “Yes”es can cause problems, too. For example, here’s the conversation L. and I had after church today.

“Did you have a good time in the nursery?”
“Yeah!”
“Did you play with all the toys?”
“Yeah.”
“Did you play nicely with the other kids?”
“Yeah.”
“Did you steal toys from them?”
“Yeah.”
“Did you have some Cheerios?”
“Yeah!”
“Or did you dump them all out on the floor?” [His usual MO.]
“Yeah!”
“Did you do any puzzles?”
“No…yeah!”
“Did you get in trouble?”
“Yeah!”
“Were you a good boy?”
“Yeah.”
“Did Ryan bite you?” [Note: Ryan* is a known former biter, and the nursery staff would have informed me if there had been an incident.]
“Um…yeah!”
“Are you ready to go home?”
“Yeah. Um…no?” This “no” was followed by a dash for the elevator. His morning at church is not complete without a ride on the elevator.

Those little 2-year-old “yeah”s are very adorable, and I love hearing them. But I’m also looking forward to the day when I get a straight story out of this kid.

*Names have been changed to protect the sometimes-innocent.