Isaac, thankfully, does not dance like his Dad or P-Pa.  Some of those Puckett genes got in there and mixed with some Nap genes and the end result is an insane dance machine.

This past weekend we when to Tara and Regi's wedding, along with most of the Naps, and it as a hell of a party.  Out in the woods, around Tara's parent's house, it was catered by an awesome BBQ place in Providence and there was a dance floor.  We partied until 9:30, which is late for a little guy, and he danced almost the entire time.  He danced with Nanny, Aunt Katie, and his Mom.  But his best moves were reserved for when he was cutting a rug on his own.  Here he is doin' his thang:

For some reason the last week was the week Isaac discovered his free will.  Its not that he has not been willful before, but for some reason he now wants to know if you are trying to make him do something. 

"Isaac, lets go to the movies."

"Are you forcing me?"

"Isaac, do you want a popiscle?"

"Are you forcing me?"

"Isaac, you have to go pee before we leave."

"Are you forcing me?"

Almost every comment made to him gets this response.  And so we have to explain to him the difference between a request (can you?) and a command (you must).  But language is a funny thing and so sometimes a question sounds like a command (while yelling back into sticks and rocks: "ISAAC DO YOU WANT TO GO FOR A BIKE RIDE?") and sometimes a question is a command (Do you want me to come over there?).  Its complicated, I get it. 

So I am okay with him adding yet another question to his almost exclusively question-based conversations.  He needs to know--are you forcing him?

Watching your little person figure something out is really amazing.  Watching them figure something out that you didn't think they could is astounding. 

Tonight at dinner Isaac was peppering me with questions (oh P-Pa, he is well on pace to break my record, well on pace...).  What's the biggest--What's the smallest--What's the fastest.  You get the idea.  Then he asks a question that is hard to answer: What is the biggest truck?  I tell him that the biggest production vehicle with wheels is the MRAP, which seems, after some fact checking, to be true.  But I tell him that the question itself is hard to answer because at some point the vehicle gets so big they have to use treads.  This leads, of course, to a question about what is a tread.  Here is what happens:

Isaac: What is a tread?
Me: It is a series of interlocking plates that move against the ground and push a vehicle forward.
Isaac: Why?
Me: Well, at some point a vehicle gets too heavy for tires and treads spread out weight better and move heavy stuff better.
Isaac: What's a tread again?
Me: Interlocking plates...

At this moment he goes into a stare, that sort of far off stare you imagine a theoretical physicist having when contemplating the most complex of theories.  Then he starts talking and using his hands.  He makes his arms in a big hoop and makes sure the ends touch.  Then he says to me: "Like this?" and he moves the hoop through the air, not just forward but around as well.  Then he keeps going: "And they are metal?" I tell him yes, and again he gets that stare.  And then he comes to the conclusion: "Like on the big machines outside, the ones working on the street?"

Bang.  He did it.  He reasoned from the word "tread" with the single hint about weight to the machines he sees outside.

His little amazing brain, without aid of anyone, went from an abstract description--a series of interlocking plates--to concrete object.  And he did it with only one hint, about the need for the vehicle to be heavy.  I was speechless.  And holy moley is it amazing to watch how fast kids think.  An adult with no knowledge of the word "treads" would have taken a year to figure this out.  His little mind is so flexible, so nimble, its really a wonder.