Genius

We found out this week that The Bean's IQ tested in the top 99.5%. Yay! Right? Not so much. I am worried (because that's my go-to emotion with anything Bean-related). I won't start into the particulars because this will turn into a neurotic manifesto and I don't have time for that right now... I want to watch New Girl and read my book.

But then she cut off all her bangs because she couldn't figure out how else to get tree sap out of it. Later she repeatedly hit herself in the head with a pillow until she got dizzy and fell down. Why? Because she's six and that's what six year olds do.

Tonight she started planning her science fair project on electromagnetism while singing a song about the scientific method and asking me questions I had to look up the answers to. Five minutes later she was laughing so hard she almost peed herself because I was singing Chic's "Everybody Dance" chorus: "everybody dance, da-da-doo-doo, crap your pants, crap your pants" instead of "clap your hands, clap your hands."

I've always known she was smart. She started talking at nine months old and reading before she was two. But because she's silly and goofy and clutzy and fun, I assumed she was bright or moderately gifted. But genius? That looks different, right? That's serious and studious and maladjusted and unpleasantly weird, yes? Apparently not. Genius is a six year old with stupid bangs, a wicked sense of humor, and a collection of weird things she finds on the ground.

Bean is a genius. Her IQ places her in "genius range."

And she likes poop jokes and blowing bubbles and having dance parties.

I can do this. She's Bean. I've got this.