You may, or may not, have guessed this, but I am what could be called the Black Sheep of my family.  I could also be called a rogue genius. I like that! Heck I could be called a spaceman but it really wouldn’t mean anything. I don’t have a billion dollars to pay for being a spaceman, and I’m not sure I’d go up in their fool rockets if I did.

Think about it. Jeff B founded Amazon as a book seller that eventually sold everything. If you sell stuff you have to accept returns. I tried to return something on Amazon and it was a disaster. I was referred to a supposed expert whose job it was to help me operate the product, more importantly, to avoid the return. We were on the phone for an hour, and the silly thing still wouldn’t do what I wanted it to do. Imagine if that was a rocket in space. It goes up, and when it comes time to come back you can’t get return authorization.  I can just hear the guy on the phone, “What’s the problem? The rocket got you to space just fine Jeff. Why do you want to return it? Perhaps you’re not understanding the directions. By the way, isn’t space lovely? Oh, I checked with the manufacturer. They don’t accept returns once the product is used.  So, I’m sorry there’s no return to earth. Thank you for your purchase.” Anyway, back to me.

The reason I might be called different is that my family is smart, and I am a world class underachiever. It’s true. I once won the gold medal in underachieving by forgetting to show up for the competition. Not one of my best moments, to be sure. It’s okay now I’ve grown to accept the fact that I will be behind in most things, and perhaps even enjoy it. Remember, if you show up late for a dinner party, you’re just in time for dessert and you never have to mingle.

The issue is, and I don’t want to seem like I’m all high and mighty, is that underachievers should stay with their own kind, and not breed with normal people. It’s nature’s way. If you got mediocre grades in college, marry a person who did as well. Your children will have a much easier time with their underachiever life if they are not from mixed parents. It was never meant for smart people genes to mix with stupid genes. The results can be disastrous.

I know this to be true, because I also am a card-carrying idiot. As such, simple rules like this often go unfollowed and trouble explodes in to my life. It’s just one of those things and can’t be helped. You see I broke this rule of nature and wed a highly intelligent woman. We have taken the surmounting issues in stride, but our children have suffered almost daily embarrassment. The funny thing is, the embarrassment doesn’t come from their friends making jokes at them, because of their parents. It comes because the parents embarrass them and the friends love it. My children’s friends are fantastic and think my stupid-dad antics are great. All this has my children seeking therapy. I guess I’m okay in small amounts, but living with me can cause your IQ to plummet.

That’s exactly the trouble. If my kids were underachievers like me, they wouldn’t care about a few IQ points. They would laugh at my great jokes like, “I wondered why that baseball seemed to be getting bigger. Then it hit me.” That’s a great joke and my kids just walk away shaking their heads. The other day I got big laughs from my daughter’s friends with this one; Why won’t the coach let ducks play basketball? They’re always fowled. My daughter actually kicked me. I tried that one with my son and his answer was, “Probably because the duck can’t dribble the ball and it would be very unlikely it could shoot a basket. Although, if a team mate were to pass it the ball and it were able to catch it in flight, hypothetically it could be the top scorer.” Yea genius that’s just what I was thinking.

The worst part of having children smarter than you is trying to teach them a bit of discipline. The first thing a parent learns is the best form of punishment is to send the kid to their room. This doesn’t work with smart kids. I told my son to take out the trash and he got mad and dumped it in the garage. I made him clean it up and sent him to his room. He spent the time happily reading and I overheard him saying that it was actually fun. Not to be dissuaded I told him to take out the trash the next day. He dumped it again. Now I got a problem. If I send him to his room, I’m not punishing him. If I keep making him take out the trash my garage will be full in just over a week. So, now I take out the trash myself. I showed him.

The next tool a parent learns, works even less. My son wanted to go down into the creek in the woods behind our house. Now he’s old enough to take care of himself but I didn’t want the mess he’d bring back. He told me; all his friends were going. I said the inevitable, “if all your friends jumped off a bridge would you have to do that as well?” Bad Plan! “Actually father” my son started, “my friends are smart enough not to do such things without the proper safety precautions. Therefore, I must conclude the bridge jump would be safe and for some logical reason. Consequently, my answer would be yes. An interesting question, but sadly this conversation is running long and I still require an answer about the creek trip.” At that point I just let him go. It’s just easier.

Then there’s The Golden Rule which, I’m sorry, makes no sense at all. Do Unto Others as You Would Have Others Do Unto You. I would have Bill Gates give me a million dollars, so should I send him a check? Not Happening! My son wants me to leave him alone, so he hangs out in his room and interacts with me as little as possible. That’s what the rule means to him. I’m the dad for crying out loud. It should my golden rule not his. I want him to hang out with me and laugh at my jokes. I try to hang with him but he just rolls his eyes and I don’t even understand his jokes. Here’s the one he told me the other day. “A and B went into the hypotenuse bar. The bartender, Pythagoras, wouldn’t serve them untill they squared up.” Would someone please tell me if I should laugh at that!

So that’s my story. I should have never had intelligent children. It’s like a dog who stopped wagging! A tale of sadness!

Now, that’s a funny Joke