My Kid the Genius

I had lunch yesterday with a few colleagues, and somehow we got on the topic of children. I dread this topic. Other parents have only one goal in this conversation: To figure out how your child stacks up against theirs.

I have no idea how to handle this.

I know most kids are average. That’s what average means, after all. Miss L is undoubtedly faster than some children at some things, and other children are undoubtedly faster than Miss L at those same things, and other things as well. And that faster kid? She’s probably just average too. That’s right: your average kid is getting his butt kicked by another average kid.

I know this. Really, I do.

And then someone says, “Miss L is so smart!” and the inner turmoil begins. She might not just be average. After all, DC is like Lake Wobegon, where the kids are all above average. No one is “just average” here. No one.

So if Miss L is average, then she is the only one. That would really suck. Especially when it comes time to apply for private schools.

But I don’t want to think about the WPPSI. I don’t want to think about school, private or otherwise. I don’t want to think about the social stigma that comes with being too smart for your own good. I don’t want to think about being a pariah if she turns out to be just average.

Miss L is two, for chrissake. The only thing to do is avoid talking to other parents at all costs.

And then Miss L does something like hands me a weird piece of rubbery dirt.

“What is this?” I ask, puzzled as I peer at the squishy lump in my fingers.

“It’s from my nose,” Miss L says solemnly.

Oh well. At least she didn’t eat it.

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