by Carroll Dizney

Most of my friends are now grandparents.  They delight in the first smiles, babbles, and toddles of their first-born grandbabies. Lately I’ve noticed a trend among these friends as the babies grow.  The children become developmentally or intellectually advanced.  In some cases, the child possesses superiority in both spheres!   

Lori, a close friend of 30 years, is grandma to three-year-old Parker. I love Parker and have enjoyed her tiny jumps and lop-sided somersaults down the hallway. Even when she runs smack into the wall with her twirling, she is cute.  Apparently, I did not appreciate a child’s true physical potential.

 Lori tells me that Parker has won the role of Odette in her preschool’s production of “Swan Lake.”  The Lead Bird!  “Of course, it’s not actually ‘Swan Lake,’ “she adds. “It will be more like a free-form thing, but still very dramatic.”  Lori is spending $100 for a leotard with feathers super-glued to it for Parker.  

To add to that exceptionalism, my other friend (I have two) who we will call Audrey (not her real name but I cannot afford to lose one friend) is enamored with the physicality of her grandson Max.  He is an auburn-haired, freckle-faced preschooler with the exuberance of Tigger.

 When Audrey and Max stop by my house, he immediately heads for my queen-sized bed.  Max loves to jump!   It’s routine for him once inside the front door to race into the bedroom and launch himself up on the bed. “Watch this!” Max squeals as he launches himself four inches into the air.  

After witnessing Max’s prowess, Audrey enrolled him in a gymnastics school. “He’s just so agile and fearless, I think he needs professional guidance,” she adds.  The school requires all children to try-out before their parents pay $200 per month for the child to attend.  Audrey says only half the kids are accepted.

 “It sounds harsh, but the coaches say they can tell a gifted kid from the rest.”

 “How?” I ask.

“By the look in their eyes.  They have ‘the eye of the tiger,’” She replies.  I wanted to make a joke about “Eye of the Tigger” but thought better of it.  

Max and his Tiger eyes were accepted.  Audrey was so happy she was almost bouncing on the couch.   (Tigger Grandma.)

“Grandpa Tim,” our neighbor of 20 years and a recent widower, has two grandkids. The kids spend lots of time at Tim’s after school while their parents work.  Our homes are two blocks from the schools, and although Tim continues to work as a police detective, he tries to get home early to supervise the kids.

Lately, Tim appears to be spending time investigating the brilliance of his grandkids.  They are in middle school, which Tim says is a colossal waste of time as each one tests up to high-school level intelligence.

“How were they tested?” I ask.

“The Junior Mensa Test online.  They each blew it out of the water! Got 97% correct in every subject!” Tim replies.

“Each one got 97% correct?” I ask.

“Yes.  It’s clear they’ve got that ‘smart’ gene,” he answers.

“Was there a fee for the tests?”

“None. But I have enrolled them in the Junior Mensa Club at a very reasonable yearly fee.  You can only get in if you score high enough,” he answered.

Now I’m beginning to wonder about our Police Department.

I don’t want to sound mean, but Tim’s grandkids lock themselves out of Tim’s house on a regular basis, either misplacing the key or locking it inside the house. I know this because Tim has entrusted me with an extra key “in the rare event the kids lose the one I gave them.”   They’ve come over at least four times in the last few weeks asking to use my key.  Tim, the detective, has no idea. 

Finally, there is Ezra. A child of eight, so developmentally and intellectually advanced, her Grandparents must share the news.  I hear about Ezra every week at the pickleball courts where  Linda and Dan play. 

“Ezra just finished the entire Hobbit series, even while qualifying for the premier soccer team!” says Linda. 

“Plus, she’s starting a club at school,” adds Dan “Soccer Lovers United in Reading!”

“Oh, the SLUR club?” I ask.

“Huh?” replies Dan wafting a ball at the net.  “It’s for the kids on the soccer team who like to read. We didn’t want Ezra to get behind in her reading, so we suggested she get the team involved. She came up with the name herself!”

I’ve met Ezra recently at the courts while she watched her Grandparents play. 

“Hi Ezra. I’ve heard a lot about you,” I greeted her.  She sat on the courtside bench, blond ponytail tied neatly behind her head.

“Oh Hi,” she said.  “Sorry.  My Grandparents can’t help themselves. They only have pickleball and me. Just let them talk on like I do.  Nod your head occasionally.”

“Well, I can tell you are a bright girl, talk or no talk,” I replied.

“Thanks.  I do just fine,” she says,” Wanna teach me some pickleball?”

Despite all I’ve heard from her Grandparents, I realize Ezra is going to be just fine.