Smarty Pants

The Man is dancing the jig because Boo's teacher tested him and he is "a very smart little boy."
Evidently he had doubts.
Not me.
I knew my baby was smart.
He takes after his mama, after all.
I understand why The Man is so happy.
All parents want their kids to be the best, the smartest, the fastest, etc.
Not me.
I want my kids to be happy.
The rest? Just icing on the cake.
Don't get me wrong. I love the fact that my kids are smart. I'm human. Sort of. or at least I pretend to be until the mother ship returns.
But more than anything, I want my kids to feel the joy of learning something new, trying something new, doing something new.
I want them to smile at the mentally challenged child in the store instead of turning away.
I want them to hold a door for an older person rather than shoving past them.
I want them to see a hungry bird and share their crust of bread.
I want them to look at a sunset and wait for that first star to appear, knowing that there is something greater than they are. And that something loves them.
Almost as much as I do.