I recently had a girlfriend tell me I was too smart to be happy. I immediately knew it to be true, and I simultaneously found it depressing. I over-think every fucking thing. I have to deconstruct my happiness. If it weren’t for blogging I’d probably implode. I can recall plenty a time in my life when I wished to be a smarter than dumb, and dumber than smart, particularly in my younger days when I got dumped three times in a row for being too smart.
While I like to think I am cute, too, this post isn’t about me. It has occurred to me that there is also a downside to having a cute and smart kid. I will start with smart. Smart kids know how to manipulate and who best to manipulate. My father-in-law stands no chance against my three-year old. All she has to do is bat an eyelash and the world is hers on a platter (or more specifically gelato when she was one year old). My husband and I were both wishing she was a little more dense the other day when we told her no more movies and she went and got a DVD out of its case, opened the DVD player, loaded the damn thing, and then started it. She asked me six months ago what migration is! Which, that’s actually fine but I am worried about what she’ll be asking me six months from now!
So now we get to cute. I ran into a coworker today who just met my daughter last week and said “she is so cute I would have given her anything she wanted!” Immediately I heard those words coming out of store vendor’s mouths, teenage boy mouths, and club bouncer mouths. I can hear myself doing an internal slow motion “Noooooooo.”
And maybe this is why a granddaughter is a mother’s best revenge. I can already anticipate all the ways she will use her brains against me and her looks to gain advantages that I don’t want her to have.
This post probably proves that I am too smart to be happy, now that I think about it.