Dear Spike:
Folks used to laugh when I told them I worked at The Toy Factory.
“So you’re an elf?” they’d ask with the invariability of the sun rising in the east, “so what’s Santa like?”
Ha ha. Roll eyes. Hadn’t heard that one before. Nope, not an elf. Don’t know Santa. Ha ha. Yawn.
People are soooo predictable.
The Toy Factory, I would explain, was in fact a quaint little toy shop in downtown Corvallis, Ore., where I attended college. We didn’t carry any toy guns or army figures. No Barbie Dolls. No video games. No Mickey Mouse-shaped television sets.
Many of the toys the shop carried were handcrafted. Almost all had some educational purpose. And everyone who shopped there knew, for certain, they were buying for the next Albert Einstein.
Here’s how it would go...
Customer (in a panic): “I need a gift for my nephew. It’s his birthday today.”
Me (in a blue apron): “No problem, why don’t you tell me how old he is.”
Customer: “He’s five — but he’s very advanced.
They all said it. Just like that. Every last one.
Corvallis may have been the academic home of the only man ever to win two unshared Noble Prizes and the guy who invented the modern maraschino cherry, but it is still an improbability of extreme statistical significance that all of the customers at The Toy Factory were shopping for children who were, in fact, “very advanced” or even “sort of advanced.”
But this, in fact, is how it went. Day after day and tenfold about Christmas.
“He’s very advanced.” “She’s very advanced.” “They’re very, very, very advanced.”
People are, after all, soooo predictable.
Fast forward to February 18, 2008. I’m strumming away on my computer keyboard, writing the great American novel. You’re sitting on my lap — and you’ve discovered that if you smack the “delete” key real hard, it makes daddy mad, which is very funny to you.
A band was playing. When Johnny Comes Marching. Waltzing Matilda. Tie a Yellow Ribbon. All around, soldiers in uniform were...SMACK! Ha ha ha!
A band was playing. When Johnny Comes Marching. Waltzing Matilda. Tie a Yellow Ribbon. All around, sold...SMACK! Ha ha ha!
A band was playing. When Johnny Comes March...
SMACK! Ha ha ha ha ha!
I’m not proud. I know when I’m beat. But I thought a compromise might be in order. I rushed to the local mega-super-ultra-lightning market, where I was certain I could find a toy computer for you to smack around to your heart’s delight.
And sure enough, there it was — on sale for $21.98, no less.
Perfect.
Except for one thing:
AGES 3 TO 6.
I did a little quick math. You’re nearly nine months old, which leaves you about 27 months shy of the intended age for this toy.
And then, God help me, a thought crossed my mind.
“Well,” I reasoned, “she is very advanced.”
People are sooooo predictable.
Love,
dad
7 comments:
Well I know it is kind of a joke now... but I also know Spike WILL be VERY ADVANCED. And that you will be thinking of your job at the toy store right around the time Spike is entering kindergarten already writing her name, counting, reciting the alphabet and undoubtedly reading a bit. So I am looking forward to 4.5 years from now when I see "She's VERY ADVANCED Part 2" on the blog. Take a tape recorder to your kindergarten interview. ;)
Hugs,
K
Yep. Giggling.
She is just too cute in that picture! The timing of this post amazes me. I just bought that SAME toy for my son due to the similar hand smacking on my laptop. I too used the excuse, 'well he IS really ADVANCED' to explain away the 14 month age discrepancy. LOL
Btw, I have that same high chair too. I'm chalking it all up to 'great minds' rather than predictability. lol
Ha, ha! You wouldn't believe the number of "gifted" students I've had in my classes. Must be the reason Florida scores so high compared to the rest of the nation.
Well, since her dad's a writer, you must simply assume that she is "very advanced" in that area. Good genes, right?
Hilarious! And she looks right at home with that toy laptop!
I must have that toy!! My daughters fave thing in the house is our laptop!!! Where did you get it???
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