To get Bug (and me) through our 6 hour trip to my parent’s house – sans Daddy-o – I kept telling him how many “fives” it would be until the next marker on the trip. Like, “Oh, I think there’s only 4 fives until we get to Chick-Fil-A!” And he’d say, “This many?” and flash his five little fingers four times.

And then.

I say, “Bug! Only five minutes until we’re in a new state and we can beep the horn! Just one five!” Bug grins and pops up a hand with his fingers splayed. So I mirror his gesture and say, “Yep! Five!”

His hand comes down immediately and he says sternly, “No, Mama – two fives is TEN.”

And that, my friends, was two year old multiplication. MY KID IS A GENIUS.

Then, a little while later, from the back seat comes….

“Nine, ten, eleven, twelve, fourteen, nineteen, sixteen, TWENTY!”

Roger that. We’re gonna downgrade that genius level to a really smart with occasional flashes of brilliance.