Good Parents Raise Only Gifted Children! (The Story of Little "Drunk")

(See above--Kid who does NOT belong to a Good Parent, i.e., my kid.)

Good parents must have gifted children. As everyone knows, children of good parents are to be little "mini-me's" of their brilliant, multi-talented, wildly successful mom and dad. Nothing validates good parents like a gifted child.

The goal is to be sure the child knows, from a very young age, that they are the "goodest". Certainly better than the under-achieving riff-raff (i.e. kids like yours!). A superior "snowflake." The annoying ones--errr, "anointed ones."

Watch one such parent in action in this clip from the old movie, Parenthood. (You need only watch it from the 4 minutes, 35 seconds mark through 5 minutes, 40 seconds).

Good parents spare no expense to ensure their child is gifted. On the way home from the hospital with their golden child, they drive immediately to get the child on the waiting list for the exclusive, private daycare "academy" in the city. You know, one of those "hoity-toity"(sp?) elite places that promises by the time your little Morgan-Elisea enters kindergarten, she will be fluent in three languages, be a piano or violin virtuoso, excel in one or more sports, and will test in the top 2% on all measures of "smarty-pants-edness." (All for a mere $1,200 a week per child!)

Good parents will not be dissuaded from the belief that their child is gifted. Call it tenacity (or clinging like grim death to a dream). Even if their kid ends up running around with a bucket on his head rather than learning French, tanking in his grades, and more interested in Guitar Hero III than the violin--that is all just evidence that he IS gifted, but acting out because he is so FAR HEAD of the other kids he is bored. Yes, what a magical fairy-land to live in.

I remember when I realized the death of my dream, realizing that my kids were NOT gifted. At first, I just felt DEEP disappointment in both of my children. How could they have let me down! (I heard Marvin Gaye in my head singing, "Makes me wanna' hollah'...the way they do my life!") Utter despair. After all my hard work, I was not to be a good parent--I was out of the club.

Looking back, I should have seen the warning signs. It was that birthday "party," my son attended when he was 4. The host child had invited a number of his "gifted" posse. I knew this because they had proudly written "(GIFTED)" on their name tags..."Hello! I'm: KIN or 'Golden' (Gifted)"

I wish I'd noticed this BEFORE I wrote on my son's name tag: "Hello! I'm: DRUNK!!" (It was a JOKE!) AT one point, Mike got too loud and host mom called out, "Little DRUNK!" You make brain hurt with loudnesss. Quiet manners please, okay?" She approached me for conversation later, "So you are DRUNK father?" Ummm... :)

The party hit full gear, with the "gifted"-tagged kids quietly discussing quantum physics and creating a scale model of a magical city called "Tokyo/ DC", using only Lego's. My son gave this about 30 seconds of focused thought, then found a hula hoop, a length of rope and a kid that was also not "gifted"-tagged and they were soon in the yard "lassoing" each other.

There were other clues. I've been to other parties over the years. Same deal. Good parents holding me captive spouting on and on about their gifted child. In response, I experience the temptation to self-harm. Followed soon after by a profound sense of losing my will to live. Ultimately, I resorted to sarcasm just to make the bloated, ultimately self-glorifying monologues STOP! Some examples follow:

GOOD PARENT: My son (pre-K) just had his first oil painting entered in the County art fair. He won top prize!

SARCASTIC ME: My son (same age) just colored a house with stick people--he didn't even trace! And he only ate one crayon! We are SO proud!

GOOD PARENT: My daughter is skipping 2nd grade, going straight from 1st to 3rd grade! Hopefully 3rd grade will challenge her, at least a little bit!

ME: My daughter gets to repeat the first grade--once she gets out of juvie! So you know, we're happy.

GOOD PARENT: My oldest daughter, Melissa is busy with so many extra-curriculars: She tutors junior high kids, heads up the debate team, edits the school newspaper, is on the school swim team, and...

ME: Extra-curriculars...hmmm, my daughter is really into talking on the phone and texting--she texts REAL FAST! It's amazing...

GOOD PARENT: Suzette is now fluent in French--imagine that--fluent at 7!

ME: My daughter just learned a new curse word in French!

(Yes all lies...but it made me feel better.)

Recent research shows that like 98% of parents think their child is gifted, while the real percentage closer to like 5% at best. (See the excellent article below "Is your kid really gifted? Probably not." ). Oh yeah, you'll want lots of copies of that for all those good parents you know out there :)

In COMMENTS below, tell us about your gifted child! Actually, please don't. :) Seriously, how do you know what is fair to expect from your child?

When might a parent be pushing too hard or expecting too much? Expecting too little?

Suggested Resource:
Your Child's Strengths: Discover Them, Develop Them, Use Them

Other posts:
Caring About What People Think
Good Parents Make Sure Their Child Stands Out

Superb article for enriching your child's life and for stimulating their desire to learn and more: Is your kid really gifted? Probably not

Nominate an inspirational family (preferable one with a gifted child...hee): Families That Inspire

Caring About What People Think: The Hat, The Car, The Suit, The House

My Dad The Hat

THE HAT

This hat looks much better than the one my dad wore to our Father's day meal this year...at a restaurant...in public. Whereas the hat to the right might be seen at a country music concert, dad's wouldn't be. His was kind of lopsided and crushed down on one side, had more black spots, was frayed around the edges, but had a very festive, decorative band. Not to mention this hat was HUGE--I almost didn't see dad under there!

It struck me as one of those "lucky" hats one has worn for decades, more for sentimental reasons than for any real practical use, now relegated to being worn during yardwork--not meant for restaurant wear. It was hard to miss--though I was hoping everyone would.

No such luck. Quite a few snickers from onlookers and a couple of sets of rolled eyes from the grandkids proved I was not alone. I was so embarrassed, so suddenly, I was surprised. But it was not the first time, oh no...

THE CAR (STATION WAGON)

Just before I began junior high, dad bought a beat up old gold station wagon that spewed large clouds of black exhaust and started and stopped with a gunshot backfire and a frame-jarring shudder. Oh, and the best part? This car had a hood colored bright "primer" blue. Dad bought the car for $700 with the promise of getting it repainted one day. That never happened.

Every day of junior high, my arrival was announced by a large cloud of smoke and a "ka-BOOM" that stopped every conversation and turned every head (sending some of the more skittish kids running for cover). I leapt from "the heap" as it trembled violently (if mom stopped totally it would stall and possibly not restart) to the amusement of the kids from the local Washington Park projects who were being dropped off in Cadillacs and other big, nice, new cars.

Sure they lived in the projects and lived off food stamps and my dad owned a music store and a rental property, but as dad would point out--"at least my car is paid for." I would counter this with my junior high wisdom that I wished I had their parents cause at least they understood the importance of cool and of not just getting there, but "arriving."

Paid for. Who cares? I wanted prestige. Apparently the “prestige gene” was missing from my dad. The “paid for” gene was in charge. That station wagon with the unpainted hood was with the Kochenburger family through my college years. (One victory--I did successfully lobby not to be driven to my high school graduation in it. I was driven in my older brother's car which was one color.)

THE SUIT (WRINKLED AND MISMATCHED)

My father showed up for one of my middle school concerts driving the heap (I had stayed at school to avoid having to be driven in it). Parents of my friends from the projects (mostly single mothers) showed up too. But whereas they were dressed to "the nines"...my dad was dressed to the "two minus", in a wrinkled, outdated sport coat with equally wrinkled and mismatched shirt and pants. Dad didn't put a whole lot of stock in gazing at himself in mirrors, wasted no time on matching colors--comfort was rule #1 and overruled all else.

My junior high heart was mortified, to the point that I avoided sitting with him, paying visits to my friends, leaving him to stand alone with no one to talk to. Finally, after the room had cleared a bit, I went over to him. Even though he had done it again--lowered my coolness factor a few notches.

THE MESSY HOUSE

My dad likes everything in his house to be where he can find it...which means everything is all over the place all the time. He also doesn't like to throw anything away because "you never know when you might need this", including warped 2x4's, many empty gallon milk jugs, various lengths of PVC pipe, lengths of twine and rope, flower pots, large boxes of screws and nails--all unsorted, the list goes on. (His explanation for this was having learned during the depression that you don't waste anything...and I think part of some plan to hedge against when the next one hits.)

Bottom line...my brothers and I and our younger sister didn't invite friends over to hang out at our house. Besides, it took training to navigate--we didn't want to lose anyone in the clutter.

Who's Right, Me or Dad?

All this to say, it isn't just the hat. My dad has never had that something in him (let's call it that "prestige" gene) that cares about what other people think of him based on outward appearances and making impressions. And that has variously mystified, frustrated, angered, disappointed, mortified, or embarrassed me in my teen years when I knew everything and was certain I was right about most things, especially the the whole image thing. But now, with me at 46 years old, why the reaction to the hat?

It got me thinking. And as I noodled, I realized that at 46, I born of the "prestige" gene, may NOT be as right nor my dad as wrong as I had always thought.

After all, he has a lot less to worry about than I do. This maintaining appearances and making impressions business can get nerve-wracking! He is really happy as he is, pretty carefree in most regards. We throw too much away in America. And, you can't argue with refusing to go into debt to purchase something that depreciates as quickly as a car.

I am willing to allow my dad that maybe he and I are about 50-50 on the whole "prestige and image" thing. He could care more, I could care less. So to the words "embarrassed" and "mortified" by my dad, let me add the word..."humbled" as well. I am still learning from dad.

Here are a few other thoughts and observations...

My embarrassment is my problem, not dad's.

Dad was happy that day wearing his hat, looking how he wanted to look. I was the only one who was unhappy. It was my problem and I needed to get over it to be happy. What I eventually told myself was, "Jim, that's your dad under that hideous hat...now give him a kiss and get down to the business of the day, honoring him as your father, who always did his best for you--and who just might have it more right than you do on the appearances and image thing."

At least dad was there

Wrinkle-suited as he might have been, he was in my life and he was interested in me and what I was doing. Many of my friends from the projects didn't have their dad there. Their dad wasn't around, wasn't interested. And dad and mom have been my biggest fans in life--always interested in what I am doing. They love the new site http://www.parentconsensus.com/ and all my books, including the latest one, 101 Movie Clips That Get Families Talking http://www.parentconsensus.com/index.php?p=Store (which was part of my gift to him for Father's Day).

I'll take them being there for me and showing interest in me over a nice car and good fashion sense any day.

Freedom from what people think is a key to happiness

I love those freeing moments when I don't care at all what people think. Those are some of my happiest times. That I am able to go there at all is a gift from my father. Maybe that "paid off" gene will rise up and overcome that "prestige" gene some day.

Don't let your child, teenager or young adult's image fears and insecurities control you.

Be sensitive to how self-conscious they are. Don't do things purposefully to provoke them or to get them "over it" (that means don't embarrass them on purpose with hopes they will desensitize). But don't let their fears and concerns dictate your behavior. Don't let their insensitive comments get to you. Your security in yourself, and refusal to be overly concerned with what others think (even them) are two of the most important things you can model.

I hope you too find some freedom from what people think today. Do at least one thing today that you don't care what ANYONE thinks about...even your middle school child.

Check out the website EVERY parent needs: http://www.parentconsensus.com/

Have great talks with your teenager with, 101 Movie Clips That Get Families Talking! Find out more here: http://www.parentconsensus.com/index.php?p=Store