My kid is funny and smart. He knows his letters, colors, shapes and numbers. He can count to 100 when he feels like it. He can recognize and "read" the names of each of his classmates. He has memorized many of his books and can read them to me or himself. He can put together puzzles without any help, although he does prefer an audience. He's outgoing and friendly, loves his grandpa best of all, and wants nothing more than for you to play a game with him or take a peek into his room.
He's three and a half and he's wiggly during circle time. He's apt to copy the behaviors of the other kids in the class and he's not a big fan of listening. He's three. And a half.
I could tell you things about my boy all day long. I could tell you about the way his face lit up when the husband and I arrived home from our weekend trip. I could tell you how he gets down on the floor with his sister and encourages her to crawl. How he calls to me from his room in the morning, "Mama! Get the baby! She's crying!"
His preschool teacher seems to see him through a particular lens. She gives me an update on his behavior every single day, without fail. He's not hitting or biting or being mean, and in most cases I feel that these updates, on a daily basis, are unnecessary. It's not that I'm not interested in hearing about his day, but she doesn't give this play by play to the other parents. In all fairness, she's just as quick to tell me when he's had a great day. She gets down on his level and tells him how proud she is of him.
I can say, with certainty, that there are other children in the class who need frequent redirection. It's not as if his behavior is unique in this particular group of three year old boys and girls.
He currently loves Curious George, he derives great pleasure from driving over the speedbumps in a parking lot, he loves to turn up the music in the kitchen and dance. He counts the days on the calendar until Saturday when he can play Wii Bowling again. He's so much more than a kid who can't sit still during circle time.