Yesterday I was thinking about what I was like as a baby and I came to a conclusion.
When I was a baby I was extraordinarily dumb. It’s no surprise I had to wait until I was five years old until they finally let me into a school classroom.
I’m glad I lived in a nice home to make up for it. My parents are living legends who never once called me dumb, but they probably should have.
Just how dumb was baby Karol?
- I didn’t know how to speak. Like an idiot I used my “voice box” to mumble incoherent gibberish which nobody understood. (I was not on drugs or booze. I was too dumb to know what drugs or booze were anyway.)
- I didn’t know how to walk.
- I didn’t know how to read.
- I didn’t know how to write.
- I didn’t know how to play an instrument.
- I didn’t know simple addition. (Or any mathematics whatsoever!)
- I couldn’t count to ten if my life depended on it. (Thankfully, it didn’t.)
- If you’d have put a little honey on a $100 bill I’d have tried to eat it. (Unconfirmed.)
Name anything scholarly or skillful a semi-intelligent human can do and I couldn’t even do that when I was a baby. I know, I’m embarrassed too, but it feels good to finally get this out.
You’d agree a baby as dumb as I was couldn’t make a single rational decision, yes? You’d be crazy to think otherwise.
Yet, somehow, I was deemed intelligent enough to choose a religion and its corresponding belief system.
Or maybe … ?