Thursday, October 20, 2011

Being Average Is The New Failure

I’m terrified of having kids. Not so much in an “I’m terrified I’ll lose them like I lose my keys” kind of way, though that is a valid fear. I’m terrified that they won’t grow up in a world where it’s OK to just be a good human being with some character. You know, an average Joe Schmollacky.

The competition begins at birth as mothers compare what percentile their kids fit into in terms of height and weight. Bet that game wouldn’t be so fun if the mommies tried it out on each other.

My girlfriend Becky tried to convince me the other day that her 6-month-old went to the bathroom on the potty by himself.  Did he also excuse himself from the table and announce he was “going to the loo”?

No, he didn't, Becky.

Recently, I found out about a preschool called Crème de le Crème. What's next? All That And A Bag of Chips Prep? Don’t You Know Who I Am High School? What happens when DYKWIA North loses to DYKWIA South in the homecoming game? Is it only then that they realize that nobody cares who they are? And seeing as only one can attend I’m The Best University, will the rest have to settle for But Mumsy Always Told Me I Was Special Community College?

Cream of the Crop. That’s right smarties, I speak French too. Maybe these sweet little cherubs will know more about the stock market than I ever will by the time they’re 4, but I’d bet ya dollars to donuts that a kid from Bottom of the Barrel Institute would rob them blind in a game of three-card monte.

My parents afforded me opportunities others didn’t have. I remember doing it for the experience and not the pressure to be the best. Is it no longer OK to just be … average? Because, statistically speaking, we’re all average.

I’m thinking of opening my own school and calling it C’est La Vie. We’ll teach lessons on how to hurry the hell up when someone else is waiting for your parking space and appropriate hygiene on an airplane. Books read before naptime will be “The Little Waitress That Couldn’t” and “Bernie Madoff’s Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day.”  And we’ll end every day with a song called, “For The Love of Allah, Zeus, Ra, Justin Bieber or Whatever God or Lack Thereof You Pray To, Fight About It When You’re Dead.”

I’m sure I’ve offended plenty of family and friends who don’t agree with my educational stylings. Fortunately, I graduated from the University of Call It Like I See It with a B.A. in Self-Righteousness so I’m prepared to respond. C’est la vie.

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