You are probably familiar with the phrase, “be careful what you wish for.” This cliché provides no exception when placing wishful orders to produce intelligent offspring, for I offer living proof to this mantra with the bittersweet results delivered on my behalf. Although not most parent’s number one priority, when given a choice, naturally we hope for acute and resourceful children. Since my husband and I process information as oppositely as two human beings can, I maintained even before we procreated that our brood would likely turn out either extremely dense or, preferably, extremely bright. With our gene pools consisting of contradictory strengths and weaknesses, I never imagined average intellect to be a probable outcome. In retrospect, I admit it is rather peculiar that I didn’t consider it, but perhaps my theory was a result of my highly intuitive predictions. In spite of this, my foresight failed to anticipate the repercussions; I hadn’t counted on their brilliance coming back to bite me in the form of defiance.

Since my daughter, who is now nine, was a late talker we initially had no idea of her mind’s power. But it didn’t take long once she began putting her words together to realize that there was a lot going on in that little head of hers. I remember one time she was sitting and coloring on a piece of paper at age 3, when she looked up and announced in an enlightened manner that “three four’s is twelve.” I was quite impressed that this three year old had discovered the concept of multiplication completely on her own, and to this day she hasn’t ceased to amaze us with her nearly infinite acumen.

This child has a comeback for everything. The latest which I, personally found amusing since I was not on the receiving end, was on Sunday morning as she was arguing with her father for waking her up. His rationale was that she needed to get used to the new time, as a result of Daylight Savings, to ease the transition in getting up Monday. As always, she proceeded to argue the validity of her objection and attempted, at any cost, to get the last word. After going a couple of rounds he told her that the discussion was closed and would not be debated further. Her response: “Why? It’s because I have a point! Isn’t it?” I stifled my laughter, and informed her that her dad already feels sorry for her future husband!

Although it went along with what I had always predicted, I really thought that her level of intelligence was likely the exception of our genetics, rather than the rule. Never in my wildest dreams had I expected similar results to be duplicated. Yet, here is my son, now five years old, impressing most adults with his inquisitive and interpretive nature. He has been inquiring since he was three how the first human came to be. Unfortunately, his curiosity is more advanced than his ability to comprehend the answers to such questions. At four, one particular thought that preoccupied his mind focused on the last person, as opposed to the first. His thoughts were instigated after driving by a cemetery one day. He said, “Mom, when the very last person dies they will not get to be buried like everyone else because no one will be left to bury them. But it will be OK since there will be no one to see their bones.”

As much as I wonder what goes on in that boy’s mind, I do know one of the frequent culprits because he informed me that he sees math problems in his head. It should come as no surprise considering he frequently begs to be challenged with math facts. At Christmas while my parents were visiting, Brock wanted my dad to ask him some addition and multiplication problems. I had recently written down some simple algebraic equations with a single variable to see if he could grasp the concept. The first problem I gave him was, “if 4=n, 2n + 5 = .” I explained that since the 2 and the n were right next to each other, they needed to be multiplied. Within a moment, he produced the correct answer. So when Grandpa rattled off “3×2,” in response to Brock’s request, the child was disappointed. Replying in a manner that implied the question had insulted his intelligence, he stated, “that is so Pre-K!” before revealing the answer. (Which, ironically they haven’t even done addition in kindergarten–as you can imagine, he is not at all excited that his math at school consists of counting!)

I am grateful that he should never struggle with learning and I am optimistic about the things he will be able to accomplish if he utilizes the power of his mind. Yet, along with these benefits, come some very exhausting deficits. Just this week he has taken to throwing tantrums that rival the 3-hour fits he threw when he was three years old. Attempting to determine this recent relapse, we contributed the first day to being overly tired as a result of springing forward an hour. But after three consecutive days of intensifying tantrums, I may be forced to dig a little deeper; of course, it is entirely possible that he is just testing the waters, attempting to exert some control. He has always been a little neurotic about wanting things a particular way, but overall, he’s usually reasonably behaved.

One handicap I face is that never having dealt with this type of resistance, like him, I am learning as I go. And with a learning curve such as his, we are playing hard ball to say the least. I know the basics about the importance of consistency, and such. But I also need to know what exactly is an acceptable consequence and how long you implement it sans positive results before attempting a new approach. Not to mention, I need coping skills. I can only deal with so much blatant chaos and discord before I need soap in my mouth for cursing like a sailor. Obviously, the goal is to remain calm, but stern. Yet, after 2-3 hours of pure hell, that is easier said than done. If this keeps up, I am going to need professional assistance or the military.

At the request of his pediatrician, we have a series of appointments beginning next week to administer IQ testing. It couldn’t come at a better time, because perhaps the psychologist performing the testing can bestow some sound advice on how to deal with my little mad genius.