The slowers and the fasters

Graham has a new personality theory, a la Greta's circle head theory of intelligence.

After losing a race at putting on pajamas to his sister for the upteenth time, he sat in his room moping.

She had gotten her nightgown on, put away her clothes, and brushed her teeth all in the time that the Moose had taken to take his socks off and look for his pajamas. Of course, she did not hold back in relaying all of her efficiency to her brother despite his disappointment. The bitter irony was that the race had been Graham's idea.

After the victor had left him in his spoils, Graham looked at me near tears and said, "I'm a slower." Although, it came out as, "swower," so I had to ask him to repeat himself.

"You know, a slower. Not a faster. Greta's a faster."

I wasn't sure what to say, but busted out with something about how racing is not always fun. At least it never was for me.

He ignored me and added, "Mom, you're a slower too, right." (Oh, how right he is.)

I took him on my lap, feeling very Atticus Finch at the moment, and said, "Yeah Graham. I'm a slower too." Then I had to know, "What do you think Daddy is?"

"He's a faster like Greta."

He may not do it quickly, but he gets it.