Trying to break down his genetics

My son Chase has certainly proven to be one of the more interesting children I've ever met. As a baby, the doctors called it colic. I called it simply his personality. He cried non-stop unless he was being held up and shown everything happening around him. He couldn't stand to miss a minute of life. I can remember holding him for hours as I cooked, or washed dishes, or even sometimes put on my make-up. He was unendingly curious from the very start.

And he's never been one to seek the approval of friends or peers. He could care less if anyone thinks he is out of the norm. He can play for hours with a group of boys, or happily get lost in his own imagination. He lives his life doing what makes him happy.

And yesterday, what made him happy was to check out these books from the school library for some light recreational reading:

While most kids his age spend their time giggling over the potty-laced humor of Captain Underpants, Chase frequently picks up biographies or nature-filled nonfiction. He can reiterate the seemingly useless facts for hours.

Days, even.

And within minutes of walking in the front door, he proceeded to update me on the life and times of our friend, Mr. Churchill.

I don't think I can blame his sports/politics-obsessed father for this part of Chase's personality. And I know that People magazine doesn't even count as real literature, so he can't have gotten it from me.

But there is one man who I fully blame credit for Chase inheriting this unabashed love of all things history:

That's right, Opa. This nut didn't fall too far from your tree.

And if Chase turns out to be half the man you are, nothing would make me happier.