It’s only natural for all parents to think that their kids are geniuses. One moment, you’re holding a stinking poop machine that isn’t even smart enough to eat properly and can’t be trusted not to seriously injure itself. The next moment, there’s a miniature human being asking questions that can’t be easily answered.
As part of the craziness in getting you into kindergarten in New York, we had to get you tested, Cookie. IQ tests for four-year olds: absolutely, utterly, annoyingly crazy (and useless and meaningless and arbitrary). Due to a scheduling problem, your testing date was inexplicably moved up a month, and we didn’t get a chance to even show you the sample problems, let alone prep you. You were even sick on the day. Nevertheless, we told you that you were going to play games with a special teacher and dropped you off at the psychologist.
A month later, we received your score. Due to the craziness of New York competition for kindergartens, I have to apologize, Cookie, for being initially disappointed: your score was borderline for the school.
Sorry. I’m very proud of you, Cookie. You scored three standard deviations above average.
Crap. Now I still have to figure out how to keep up with you.