I am so proud of you it makes my throat itch.
Hey, remind me again, who was that first grader who read a third grade level book out loud, to her class?
Oh yeah, that was you.
There is so much worry these days about young girls being sexualized before they have a chance to realize their true worth and capabilities. You my love, my beautiful curly headed daughter with the gangly legs, sprinkle of freckles and eyelashes for days?
You are becoming the smart girl. You are bordering on dork. Nerd. Smartypants. Bookworm. Brainiac.
And I couldn’t be more proud.
I was the smart girl. I was the quirky weird dork who loved reading and had an affinity for Shakespeare long before anyone else in my class could spell Hamlet. I dazzled the ACT (32.) I sailed through the ACT (1423.) I looked forward to geometry and never got less than an A- through high school. National Honors Society? Yep.
But here’s my confession. One very few people know.
I dropped out of high school my senior year. Because of a boy.
After interviewing with colleges I went to his house full of excitement about scholarships, far off places (Texas to be exact) and figuring out what I wanted to be when I grew up.
He was a high school drop out too. He asked me why I even bothered staying with him if I was just planning on leaving him for college.
Who knows what I would have become had I kept those college brochures in my hands instead of dropping them for him. There’s really no sense in wondering.
I would have never met your dad had I left that day with the pamphlets and without a boyfriend. I would have never gotten the highest score possible on the GED. Vivi wouldn’t be here. This blog wouldn’t be here. YOU wouldn’t be here.
You, my intelligent baby with my ears and my blue eyes.
There is nothing wrong with being smart.
And anyone who tells you otherwise?
Is just jealous.
Stay geeky my love.
Speaking of geeky, I babbled the seedy underbelly of Nursery Rhymes.