My son has been "endearingly" called a nerd since he was very young. At the age of three, instead of swinging a golf club like his more "athletic" cousin; my son turned it upside down so the thick driver part of the club was mere centimeters from his lips. My son was using his device to speak to aliens. Yes, I am sure those extraterrestrials could hear him.
My son also used sand buckets, not in their intended manner, but on his head - again to communicate with space beings.
If countless hours of engineering kit after kit and creation after creation qualifies you as a nerd; well, my son has earned that moniker.
If reading 1,000+ page adult novels puts you up there in Stephen Hawking land (or rather Stephen King land in this instance, well, my son fits that bill.
My son has a unique way of thinking. His perspective is unlike most of us. I remember clearly his kindergarten teacher explaining to us that when a child draws a bird, they draw a side profile version. My son drew his bird from an aerial perspective. His bird was as if you were in the atmosphere looking down upon the winged animal.
I have never been bothered by the necessity of some to deem my son in the category of "nerdiness". Nope. Not for one second have I been offended or hurt. I do not understand the need for a label, but I know that there are some very successful "nerds" out there. Steve Jobs. Bill Gates. The Google Guys. Cripes, even Mark Zuckerman.
With that, I leave you with this letter to a son. I could have written it myself: