Little Miss Know-it-all
I still remember it like it was yesterday, the day my little girl realized she was the smartest person in the room. At the risk of sounding like a proud parent, all of my children are exceptionally clever-as evidenced by the embarrassing things they have said to their friend’s parents, the stunts they have pulled in Hobby Lobby, and the moving cars they have leapt out. But Erin is actually gifted with an IQ score to go with it. One day when she was eleven, she decided to see what that little insignificant number meant when compared to the general population. Her conclusion both astounded and disturbed her. She put down her little Kindle tablet, marched straight into the living room and posed a question I will never forget.
“How is it that you guys are so damned stupid?”
She didn’t mean anything by it, she was still reeling from the shock. That, and she had just begun binge-watching a bunch of cable network shows I really wish she had told me about before she begun trying out the language. But we will save those stories for another day! This day, she was admittedly rattled. She never felt particularly smart. So how was it that her IQ score was significantly so much higher than the rest of the general population? My answer was less than comforting. I simply explained that she was very bright and that her feelings had more to do with her well-rounded experience and perspective than any mental deficit.
But it led her to question other things, such as the state of the country. Everyone she watched on the news at the time was touting what a smart man the President was, no matter what political party was doing the interview. But his IQ wasn’t nearly what hers was. Was he seriously no smarter than a sixth grader? How far below her was his cabinet?
And then there was the situation with the economy. Was it really ran by people that mainly scored so mediocre on their tests? Wasn’t that a big risk to the global marketplace if these people depended upon calculators and computer programs? She had been watching them too and trust her-she said, it was scary!
Which brought her not so gently to discuss concerns about her living situation. Having a firm idea of what my IQ was, she was full of questions!
At first they sounded like she was impressed by our abilities-even if the compliments seemed a little condescending. “You are responsible for keeping the lights on, the water running AND paying all the bills?”
“Yes,” I replied. “That’s my job.”
Another day brought another question. “So you decide what schools I go to, what college, and practically my whole future?” she asked with the sobriety of a judge.
“And I’ve been doing it for years,” was my response, although I have to admit the question perked my curiosity.
The next time she came down stairs with that look on her face, I could almost predict the question if not the topic. “And you are supposed to recognize and meet all my medical needs, set up all my appointments and give me all of my meds?”
“Yes Erin,” I said with a slight irritation. “And I haven’t killed you yet.”
But when she came down stairs with the shocking revelation that I also prepared her food, it almost stretched my patience. “Listen,” I said. “Just because I count on my fingers sometimes does not mean I am a complete drool-monkey!” She thought about what I said with an adorable consideration.
“You’re right,” she said as she patted my shoulder and walked back to her room. “There are plenty of people out there way dumber than you and they are still surviving, right?”
That’s right, honey.
I’m Jennifer Beck and I’m Jenuinely Jennifer.
Writer, Researcher and Idiot!
