Little Genius or Devil Spawn?

If you asked any of my friends to describe me in three words, most of them would probably say this: "mature, tired, but also fun to be around." This is probably because my answers to most questions are, well, entertaining to them (and, on average, i get approximately 4 hours of sleep a night so I look like hell pretty much every morning). It's nothing new to me because people always tell me how different I was growing up. When I was eighteen months old, I woke up one night in my crib and decided it was time to redecorate. I stood up, ripped the picture off the wall by my crib, frame and all, and slung it like a frisbee across the room at the opposite wall. I refused to drink out of a sippy cup, I could make pancakes and omlets for breakfast by the time I was eight, I thought Barney was a masochistic idiot whose show has no entertainment value whatsoever. I was more than happy to hide the TV remote when my parents tried to make me sit throught the torturous show. Eventually, my parents figured out that I was smarter than that, especially when I was in third grade. Our class had to write an essay on what we wanted to be when we grew up, obviously a typical topic discussed by children. Where the other kids wrote about wanting to be Firefighters and Presidents and Moviestars and Veterinarians or other fantasies, I wrote a well written paper about my plans to become a surgeon, make redicuous amounts of money, and spend it on yachts and cars while drinking margaritas on a beach in the Caribbean. Not very realistic for this time in my life, but i suppose it was a phase. Sometimes I wonder if I was a little genius with the maturity of a typical adult or the devil spawn who wanted Barney to burn in hell for being a bad influence on me. Maybe I have him to thank for this. His stupid voice and corny songs probably brainwashed me and softened my bitter little temper. Hmm...