EVER GREATER EXPECTATIONS

Dear Spike:

I'm guessing the lady at the hardware store's check-out stand asks everyone the same question: "So watcha makin' hon?"

"I'm building a book nook in the attic for my daughter," I told her.

"Ahh, that's sweet," she replied. "How old is she?"

"She'll be two later this month," I said as I slid my credit card through the machine.

The lady looked at me with a puzzled expression on her face.

"Two year olds don't read, hon," she said, handing me a receipt.

"Um, mine will," I said.

"Well, sure sweety," she said, already turning to the next customer, "good luck with that."

We get this sort of thing a lot.

When you were about three months old, I was chatting with a pregnant colleague about potty training, when another coworker walked by.

"Potty training?" he said to me. "What do you know about that? Your kid isn't potty trained."

"Actually, she uses the toilet pretty regularly," I said.

"No she doesn't," he said.

I gave him the best "whatever, jerk" look I could muster, then turned back to the coworker with whom I'd been conversing. I explained how, as long as we were perceptive to your needs, you were more than capable of doing your business in the toilet.

But the nosy coworker was undeterred. "So you're saying that you just hold her over the toilet and she goes?"

"Something like that."

"She's probably just peeing because she's terrified that you're going to drop her," he said. "Good luck with that."

At the park, a few days ago, we were practicing your colors in Chinese. Another parent walked by.

"Do you mind me asking what language that is?"

"Mandarin," I told her.

"Oh, is her mother Chinese?" the woman asked.

I looked down at my Irish-pale daughter. "Um, no," I said. "We just thought it would be good for her to know another language."

"Oh, us too," she said. "My daughter's learning Spanish."

"That's great" I replied. "That will be very important."

"You know, Chinese is much too hard for a toddler to learn," she said. "You should start with something else."

"Thanks," I said. "But I think she's doing pretty well with this."

"OK," she said. "Good luck with that."

Sigh.

When other parents ask me for advice, I share what we've learned — all our successes and all our missteps. But I'm not in the habit of dolling out unsolicited advice. And no, even though I'm really proud of you, I don't really care to compare you to their kid. I just don't feel the need.

Everyone develops differently. You took a long time to walk, but you talk like a champ. You're one of the smallest kids on the playground, but you're pretty fearless when it comes to tackling the big kid toys. I'm certain that you'll excel at many things. And I'm sure there will be some things that you'll struggle at.

It all comes out in the wash.

But it's true that we have big expectations of you. And so I never set out with the assumption that you can't do something.

So yes, I believe you'll be reading this year. Maybe not War and Peace, but definitely Dick and Jane. And yes, that infant potty training thing worked out quite nicely, thank you very much. And yes, I'm pretty sure that your ability to learn Mandarin is only limited by how much exposure we can give you to that language.

But our love for you isn't conditional on any of those things. You don't win any more love for being bright than you would if you were the dumbest kid on the block. In fact, all you really get for exceeding our expectations are even greater expectations.

That might sound like a raw deal. And I suppose that in some ways it is.

But the way I see it, it's your own darn fault.

Love,
dad