Children are different. I at the age of 6 brought the pediatrician to hysteria - I was sick, my grandmother went to the store, leaving me a clear instruction - to check what the doctor is, and let go. I didn’t come up with anything better than opening the medical book, which was at home, and meeting the doctor with the question: "Tell me about flat foot". The doctor’s response did not satisfy me. At 5 I went to the store, could check the delivery and crossed the road correctly. Yes, fucking, at 6 years old, I learned to bathe my nephew, at 8 was a full-fledged babysitter, and from three years old I could call my mother to work from a healthy heavy wall disc phone, for which I needed to pull a chair and draw the numbers on a sheet of paper.