One time, when my son was 2, he threw a conniption fit in the car. To redirect him, I said, “Hey buddy, check out that semi.” He looked over his shoulder, turned his head back to me and said, “Dad, that is a flatbed, not a semi.”
Unbeknownst to me, there was a difference. At least someone was paying attention when I read those dozens of truck picture books to him at bedtime.
His report card just came in — straight A’s. I never got straight A’s.
His mom and I joked that one day we won’t be able to help him with his homework. Our prophecy has arrived early – that day is now.
As I helped him with his homework last week, I realized — this shit is above my pay grade. I did the only logical thing anyone could do; I yelled at him for not paying better attention in class.
I think I just have to face the fact that my fifth grader is smarter than I am.
If that’s the case, who will help him with his homework for the next 8 years? What if he starts calling me “dumbass” in front of my friends?