Status update: Ivy is almost 4 years old. She is almost 4 feet tall and refuses to stop growing. There came a point during this past year when we virtually stopped using a stroller but I can’t pinpoint when exactly that was. She loves dresses, strobe light dance parties, mac and cheese, and riveting conversation, especially that on the topics of “booty,” “butt,” “poopy,” or the like.

Ummm… I think that’s all as far as updates. To tell you the truth, I don’t have an agenda or theme for this one as of the writing of this sentence. I just had a pocket of time to do some writing and felt like I was due for another Fatherhood review. So, it appears we’re taking this journey together.

Oh, here’s something…The third-party reviews of Ivy came in. The impartial reviewers have spoken and are raving about how smart Ivy is. “She’s not even 4 yet!?” they exclaim. “She speaks so well!” they say. “She’s so advanced!” they say.

Listen, I hear you. But I’m not going to be one of those parents who spouts some fantastical, off-base portrayal of his kid as some rare savant or what have you. Y’all are not about to pump my head up and have me out here talking overly-biased foolishness to everyone who’ll hear it.

Ivy is reasonably intelligent for an almost 4-year-old – nothing more. Well… ok… her vocabulary does seem to be slightly ahead of other kids her age, but I’m a writer so she’s predisposed to a little of that. And she speaks with uncommon clarity… but that goes along with the vocab stuff, I’d argue. The last other thing to note is that her comprehension and situational awareness is pretty damned keen – surprisingly so, honestly. Then there’s the last-last thing, in that she’s memorizing her books, like, cover to cover. But all kids do that, don’t they?

…wait a second… Is my babygirl a GODDAMNED GENIUS!? She totally is, isn’t she? I frickin knew it! Ever since she started evaluating my demands of her and letting me know if “that’s a good idea, daddy” or “that’s not such a good idea, daddy,” I’ve had an inkling that her brain is in overdrive.

Now then, since we have established that I have a child of prodigious intellect, the question becomes how do we properly harness this great power? I’ll have to look it up, but I wonder how old you have to be to run for president of the United States? I think it’s 50-something but perhaps they’ll make an exception for such a special child. Or, maybe she’s more suited for technological discoveries. There’s likely no precedent for a pre-K doctorate program at MIT but someone has to be the first, don’t they? Or, what if there’s some field that doesn’t yet have a truly established scholastic infrastructure. Ivy could be the foremost thought leader in such a field… something like.. telekinesis?

…wait a second. Do you think my babygirl can move objects with her MIND!? It makes a lot of sense doesn’t it!? Someone who could eventually manipulate objects using only the power of her mind would totally first be able to give rational critiques of her father’s guidance and would absolutely, 100%, have been told how advanced she was at the age of 3. All the precursors are there in front of your eyes. The next logical step is Ivy lifting a runaway car out of a pond with her brain, just in time for the driver and her family to escape unharmed.

…wait just a m/f second here. Do you think Ivy is a SUPER HERO!? No, probably not, and stop being silly.

Mild hyperbole aside, my wife and I exchange loaded grinning glances with regularity, the subtext of which is, “how lucky are we to have such an amazing little girl?”

She may not have been accepted to MIT (yet), nor can she move objects with her mind, but she very much is a smart child. And she’s not a super hero but she is amazing in so many ways. She’s amazingly kind at times and is often compelled to help others in need. She can be amazingly difficult too. I’ve said the phrase “you’re not being a good listener” so much that I’m starting to wonder if she understands what it means; but I know she does. She’s a genius (wink). She just likes to test the boundaries. No… she likes to identify the boundary, then change into her muddiest rain boots and trudge, disrespectfully, this way and that across the line, back again, and yon. But, what can I say? She’s three years old. And, ultimately, when I point her out to someone I’ve just met, it’s with my chin up, a smile on my face, and a twinkle in my eye that I say, “that one’s mine.”

Verdict: Incomplete (but things are getting interesting)