Connor was given the assignment to write a poem about a color. Connor's favorite color is yellow - as in sunshine and daisy centers. He chose black. I was absolutely taken aback by this choice, and casually tried to inquire about it. He told me he couldn't write about yellow because he couldn't figure out what it smelled like.
We went to lunch with a couple of friends of his and the color poem came up. His friend's choice? Yellow.
When I pulled Connor's poem out of his backpack, I had a moment where I thought perhaps I should set Connor up with a psychiatrist. When my friend, a psychologist, saw the poem, she said "you do realize your kid is highly gifted, right?". Which is just one more reason why I adore her. More on my trip to Minnesota to visit another time, but here's the poem. It still seems a little deranged to me.