Saturday, August 18, 2012
When should you worry about the IQ of your children? I am writing this post in the sure and certain knowledge that I will need to delete it before the nine year old gets the chance to read it. I am worried. Not seriously worried, concerned might be a better choice of word. Let's face it - I am neither worried or concerned, I am simply astounded at the lack of IQ my child sometimes displays.
It's not universal. There are times when she stuns me with her knowledge but there are many times when her actions can only be described as glaikit. Did you Google it? Is it not the most perfect word? Scottish slang can only be described as delicious in it's ability to summarize several feelings into one word, ironic given our national propensity for verbosity.
What can the nine year old have possibly done to cause me to question her intelligence in this way? It involves swim lessons. She had them each day last week to refine her strokes and diving. This being California - the sun is blazing with it's full summer might - so we need sunblock. In an attempt to foster the much desired independence of the nine year old, I asked her to sunblock herself each morning. I supervised her face application with lotion but left her to do her arms and legs with a spray. On return from the lesson I notice that her legs and arms have a distinctly pink hue. Entering into our home I notice right away a goopy puddle on the floor under the cabinet in the hall.
On investigation within the cabinet, I discover the can of spray with the plastic safety seal still in place. Having been 'sprayed' for several seconds over each nine year old limb you can imagine the scene. The spray had run out from under the seal making a lovely, sticky mess inside and out.
How do you spray yourself with sunblock and not notice it didn't spray out? How do you rub in the spray not noticing that your legs are still dry? How do you not see the build up of white cream all around the top of the can? HOW?
On questioning (yes I am aware that there is a slightly Spanish Inquisition type tone to that phrasing) the nine year old gave me her standard response, accompanied by an irresistible grin and a shoulder shrug - "oopsies."
If my reaction is any gauge - she will do just fine in life. There are few who could resist that face and an oopsies. Assuming of course she doesn't grow up to be a brain surgeon.