Reincarnated Shakespeare

It was not difficult for my parents to realize there was something different about Nick, because when we were little, we went through the motions of childhood at the same time. Being twins, it was easy to track our accomplishments and compare the two.

It was clear they were happening at different rates. I was running around the house bowl legged at 9 months old. I’d run over to Nick, who was still crawling, grab his toy, and run across the house to place it somewhere else. I think this was my way of saying “look at me! I can walk and you can’t!” I was potty trained, and started spurring out words while Nick was still just making sounds in his diaper. These were of course all factors that caused my parents to believe there was something off, but the dead give away was none of these things.

We used to watch those developmental baby shows. They were all names like Baby Neptune, Baby Galileo, and of course, Baby Shakespeare. On our basic, white, stocky refrigerator, we had lettered magnets for us to spell things out on. One day, the word “Shakespeare” appeared on this very fridge with these very magnets. My mom didn’t write it, my dad didn’t write it, and I sure as hell didn’t write it because the only thing going on in my mind at the time was chewing on my Barbie dolls’ clothes.

Nick, at the age of three years old, when a child is just starting to form basic cohesive thoughts, wrote out “Shakespeare” on our fridge- with perfect spelling too may I add.

Now, there were only two logical explanations as to how this happened:

1. Nick was the reincarnation of William Shakespeare himself.

Or 2. He was on the spectrum.

Because you’re aware of the purpose of this blog, I’m sure you can figure out what the correct answer was, but it would’ve been cool if it was the first option.