WASHINGTON -- At nearly 3 years old, Jacob Boss is very much his own man.

Ask him if he's Jacob, for example, and he'll deny it. He picks a different person or creature to be nearly every day, changing personas like sweaters.

He is an explorer, clambering all over jungle gyms and couches. He is a comedian, who will top off a performance on his cousin's karaoke machine with a deep, vaudevillian bow. He is, in his own words, a crocodile-cheetah, a mean one, and he'll back it up with the fiercest of growls, tiny teeth bared.

In Jacob's world, you can be a crocodile, a cheetah, or a combination, if you want. It's a world where the neighbor's rose bushes are thorny and a little intimidating, and where mom and dad are the most engaging of playmates.

If, as Dr. Todd Risley of the University of Alaska says, the chatter between a parent and a child is a dance, the Bosses are living a veritable ballet.

Jennifer and Mark Boss understand that these early years are a vital time for Jacob's rapidly developing brain, and they do what they can to support that.

They understand that playing can be educational. So they indulge him when he piles mounds of cushions on the living room couch to create a zoo, or jail, or castle. They feign fright at his bear imitation. They also stop him with a sharp tone in their voice when he gets too close to the edge of the couch.

They are big on talking, whispering in his ear when they sit down to watch television together, asking him about his day when he sits at the supper table. They are happy to act as his walking encyclopedias, answering the "whys" that punctuate any conversation.

Jacob's whole world is a giant why, and he means to get to the heart of it. His brain is a sponge, and the world is so many puddles, waiting to be sopped up.

The Bosses are fairly comfortable financially, living in a pristine townhouse on a quiet Washington D.C. street. They try not to spoil their little boy. They asked guests at one of his birthday parties to bring books instead of toys.

Jacob's parents are well educated. Jennifer has a master's degree in social work, Mark a bachelor's degree in psychology as well as some graduate work in education.

Jennifer, 34, is a social worker with a background in infant mental health for Zero to Three, a Washington, D.C. advocacy organization that focuses on the first three years of life. It's a resource on young and developing brains like Jacob's. The organization recently developed a Web site specifically focused on brain development called Brain Wonders that offers a tip sheet on how brains develop.

The site, at www.zerotothree.org/brainwonders/, answers a variety of questions, including whether holding and cuddling help babies grow, why babies chew on books and whether boy and girl brains are different.

Mark's career also is focused on education. He's the former director of a project aimed at reproductive health and responsibility for young men. Now he's a consultant helping community groups with HIV and substance abuse prevention programs.

They are a 50-50 parenting team, splitting the diapers, the playing, and the hard work of parenting. His dad calls Jacob "Sonny Boy" and allows the toddler to play airplane on his legs. His mom chats with him, giggling at Jacob's jokes. She's also been the unofficial recorder of Jacob's life, keeping a journal that marks his speech habits and his firsts. It's a loving baby book. "You're brilliant!" she wrote when he was 1, and able to make the animal sounds to a book called "Moo, Ba, La La La."

"Jacob knows he is smart," she said. "Because we tell him."

The Bosses are able and willing to pay to make sure Jacob gets a good education. Tuition at Jacob's preschool is $975 a month. They realize already that if they send him to a private school for elementary and high school, they may be paying tuition into Jacob's 20s.

"For me and my family, it was a given we'd go to college as well as do well in school," Jennifer said.

Mark, 35, raised by a single mom who works in the insurance industry in Los Angeles, also saw the importance of a good education, and was primarily educated in public schools. It wasn't until Jacob was born, however, that "it clicked" how important it was to give his son the best education. Until then, he'd just sort of imagined everything would be okay. "It was day care," he said. "I started seeing his world. I saw it wasn't just us and our family. He would be influenced by other people."

Jacob began day care at a neighborhood program with a good reputation. But within two or three months, that option became unacceptable. While it was good for infants, providing cuddling and comfort, the focus for toddlers was "don't." It was a radical departure from what the pair wanted for their child. They wanted an environment that would foster exploration and creativity. He couldn't learn, they reasoned, if he wasn't doing.

Mark fought for and eventually won a slot for his son in a second program that encouraged playing as learning. That school proved to be a better option, but when a friend told them about the Quaker-run School for Friends, they jumped. Jacob started the program at age 2, and will likely continue it until he begins school.

The School for Friends has been a good fit. It's a program where parents are expected to be involved, and where photos of the children and their families decorate the walls. It's a school where teachers focus on simple skills — taking a turn, being a friend — as well as more abstract lessons.

Jacob's classroom has an area set aside for music and movement, where on one day a little boy dances wildly to the "Wiggles." It has space set aside for "art," where a little boy and little girl are painting on easels, breaking only to peek at each other, giggle maniacally, then go back to painting. It has areas for sensory learning. The focus is on learning through play.

It meshes well with what Zero to Three recommends. They say brain development is "activity-dependent," meaning every activity affects it. "Every experience, whether it is seeing one's first rainbow, riding a bicycle, reading a book, sharing a joke, excites certain neural circuits and leaves others inactive," the organization advises.

The classroom also offers freedom. While the rest of the class is working on an art project, Jacob declines. He's got a book full of Disney stories, and it's infinitely more appealing than the mess of art.

Jacob likes stories, likes hearing them, seeing them and acting them out. His family didn't have a television until he was nearly 2 because they didn't see the need. Now, they let him watch as a distraction while they're preparing meals. In the morning, PBS has fairly good educational shows. In the evening, one parent will sit with him while the other prepares the meal.

At story time, Jacob becomes the ultimate negotiator, getting his exhausted parents to read a book of jokes repeatedly, and chanting "a long one, a long one!" after his parents agree to read just one more chapter of Winnie the Pooh.

Their focus is on far more than books, though. It's also how to be a good person. The Bosses marvel at the traits they're seeing emerge in their little boy. When he's upset, he can cool himself down quickly. He's tenacious. They speak proudly of his efforts when he was younger to stack blocks, undaunted when they fell. They realize the connections his brain is making now will shape the person he will become.

Jacob is also proud when he conquers a challenge. For months, he was terrified of elevators. Then one day he and his mother were in a hurry. They got in an elevator and rode up. In her haste, she overlooked the momentous occasion of a smooth elevator ride.

Then, in the car, she heard him whispering to himself in the back seat. "I did it," he whispered. "I did it."

"What did you do?" she asked.

"I rode in the elevator," he replied. In the front seat, Jennifer got a little misty.

"He believes in himself. He's able to take care of himself," she said. "He has an internal life, and his internal life is okay."

It's just the beginning. They already have a file folder full of elementary school options for their son. "We will be trying hard to fight for the right educational experience for him," she said.

Still, they recognize their own vital roles. Child care is a few hours of the day. Bath time, wrestling before dinner, story time all give Jacob something. They want to make sure it's the right thing.

"We are," Mark said, "the first teachers in everything."



(Jessica Wehrman is a reporter for the Scripps Howard News Service in Washington, D.C. Contact her at 202-408-1484 or mailto: wehrman@scripps.com)