Prelude In 1999, I began a long-term project of reading a biography of each U.S. president in order. [Parenthetically, I caution that this is quite inspiring when reading about #1 and #2, positively wonderous when reading about #3, but then begins to go sharply downhill. I'm still on #5!] I went to the bookstore to pick out a Washington biography with my son, Coby, who was 1-1/2. In my defense, he was taken by the project, peppering me with questions: "Who's that?" "What?" "Give me", etc. I fed his enthusiasm by supplying him with the basic information: "George Washington was the first president."
Then it began to get ugly. I got in the habit of asking him "Who was the first president?" just to hear him say "George Washington" in that cute way toddlers have. You can anticipate the rest: By the time I got to Adams, it had become a ritual: "Who was the first president?" "George Washington" "Who was the second president?" "John Adams". By Jefferson, Coby had lost interest, but I had not. He was now 2, and I'm quite confident was the world's foremost presidential scholar in his age bracket. And it was not just me. My other kids began quizzing him to impress their friends. Then the neighborhood kids got in on it. Random kid sees Coby in a store: "What's your name?" "Coby Dodelson" "How old are you?" "2" "Who was the first president?" "George Washington" "Who was the second president?" etc.
First Anecdote Coby's older sister is very upset. In my fatherly way, I attempt to cheer her up. I say to Coby, who's also in the room, "Do you know who helped me take care of you when you first came home from the hospital?" [Correct answer: Ilana] Coby: "John Adams?"
Second Anecdote We travel to Rhode Island to spend time with family. Coby by this time is 2-1/2 and very, very done with presidential history, so much so that even I had stopped quizzing him. Coby's uncle innocently asks him: "How old are you?" Something happened inside the little 2 year old body. Coby looked at Barry and saw not a kindly uncle, but the months and months of interrogation he had been subjected to. He knew the answer to "How old are you?" But he also knew what question would inevitably follow and he was not interested. It is quite astonishing to hear how loud a little two year old can scream. But that day, in Providence, cousins and grandmothers and brothers and sisters in different rooms heard a bellow from the living room: "Shut-Uppppppp!" I have not noticed Barry interacting much with Coby since.