Pimping the Kid

When we lived in Brooklyn, every couple of weeks (OK, maybe it was once a month) we’d take Robert in a car service to Queens to visit Greg’s Grandma. We’d spend a few hours at her house and she’d give us 100 bucks. We called this “pimping the kid.”

On September 19, we raised the pimping to a whole new level. Robert took an IQ test as part of an application to Davidson’s Young Scholars. Hopefully, he will get a high enough score on the test to qualify for the program, and they will give us money.

We told Rob that he was going to take an IQ test “for fun.” He actually believed us because a) he thinks tests are fun, and b) he is too innocent and naïve to realize that people might judge him, or that there are rewards other than gold stars, given for things other than good behavior. The technical term for this is asynchrony.

The tester is based in MA, and as the test was scheduled for 8:30am on a Saturday morning, we had to set off the previous Friday.

In the car:
Greg: What?
Me: What, what?
Greg: Are you going to be mad the whole way?
Me: I’m not mad.
Greg: Fuck.
Me: Shh.
Greg: Don’t take it out on me because you’re nervous about the test.
Me: Argh! Don’t plant that seed in his head!
Greg: Sorry. Listen, I couldn’t stop. Something really important came up.
Me: More important than your child’s future?
Greg: Rach, try not to be so dramatic.
Me: You said you would finish working at 4:30pm.
Greg: But you weren’t ready at 4:30.
Me: That’s because I didn’t have anyone to help me! I had to load the dishwasher, and pack, and—
Greg: You were sitting having a cup of tea.
Me: I had a long day. A fight broke out among my Oompa Loompas (see previous post).
Greg: Look, it’s going to be fine. We won’t be late.
Me: I wanted to be driving in daylight, and to get there in time to find a nice hotel, and have some dinner. And give him a bath. Now we’re going to get there after 9, and he won’t have had any dinner.
Greg: Here’s a gas station, I'll get him a bag of peanuts.
Me: He’ll choke!
Greg: I give him peanuts in the car all the time.
Me: What!
Greg: I’ll get chips.
Me: Jeez! Try to find something healthy.
Greg (Leaving car): I’ll try to find something healthy.
Rob: Mom, quit fighting with dad.
Me: We’re having a discussion.
Greg (Returning): Here: A banana, a yogurt, and chips.
Rob: I only want the chips.
Me (Clutching head): Argh.
Greg: What’s the matter?
Me: We suck. We don’t deserve to be his parents. In a movie of our lives we’d be played by Danny Devito and Rhea Pearlman.
Greg: Look at him. He’s fine. He never goes to sleep before 10, anyway.
Rob: Yeah, Mom. I’m not nervous about the test. I mean, you can’t really measure intelligence. Can I have my book?
Me: Here you go, Honey. Remember when you were little, and I read that book (Charlie and the Chocolate Factory) to you at bedtime?
Rob: Yeah.
Me: And we read about the Oompa Loompas, how they are little, and have golden brown hair, and they love having fun and singing? And you whispered to me, very seriously, “Mom, I think I’m an Oompa Loompa.”
Rob (Eye roll): No-oh.
Me: (To Greg) OK. Tell me about the thing that came up.