I have four kids, all of whom distinguish themselves in various ways. My oldest is diligent, active, and a bit of an activist. My second son is out-going and expressive. My daughter is articulate and expressive. Then there is my third son, my intellectual ninja.
So this morning I went through my normal morning processes, letting the dogs out, starting coffee, starting a fire, and trying to get some school reading done before my daughter wakes up. While I was sitting in front of the fire with my book, Asher, my third son, comes out and crawls into my lap. The reason this is significant is because he normally has something to tell me. He learned to read almost before he really learned how to speak so he frequently uses large words and complex phrases. However many times these words and phrases started off on paper for him so they are frequently stated incorrectly and/or very deliberately; like someone patiently trying to form a piece of clay into a sculpture.
The other reason that this is significant is because he is my ninja, he is the one that runs around our neighborhood with a sword slipped between his shirt and his back. He is the one that lives life in super hero mode. Yet this morning he crawled into my lap and clung to me for five minutes, then got down to do something and came back and did it again.