When Mrs. Happy and I lived in Texas, we had an opportunity one day to visit a traveling art exhibit at the Amon Carter Museum in Fort Worth. The exhibit explored the personal and artistic ties between Picasso and Matisse. At one point during our tour, I was examining one of Matisse’s masterpieces when a young man holding a baby approached and stood barely a foot away from the painting. I thought it strange that he wanted to examine the painting that closely, but I thought it even more strange that he seemed more interested in the baby than in Matisse. I heard a female voice behind me say, obviously through clenched teeth, "What…are…you…doing?!"

The young man looked up from the baby, slightly startled. He looked confused, but said, "I’m getting him close so he can see the colors." The woman quickly stepped forward and grabbed him firmly by the sleeve. "No!" she said, yanking her husband several feet and screaming quietly at him while trying unsuccessfully to not draw any attention. "At three months he can see the colors fine from six feet away."

I couldn’t believe it. Here were two young parents hoping to stimulate their baby’s brain and pave his neural pathway to artistic genius simply by exposing him to two twentieth-century masters. As if that would do anything. What a couple of freaks, I thought. I gave the woman credit for at least having the presence of mind to be embarrassed about the whole thing, but still—what a freak.

Since then, I’ve seen parents pushing their kids into insane activities. I’ve heard of parents doing even more insane things before their babies are even born just so that the kids will grow up brilliant and talented. I have always rolled my eyes (inwardly, at least) at such shenanigans. Let children be children, I think. There’ll be plenty of time for accomplishments later.

So I’m sorry to say that I’m slowly becoming one of "those" parents. Oh, my child will redefine brilliance and talent. He will be the neural surgeon/architect/novelist/triathlon champion/concert pianist that the world has been anticipating ever since Thomas Jefferson and Leonardo Da Vinci failed to live up to their true potential. He will be the superhero who calls himself Renaissance Man. And I’m not just trusting in genetics for this. I have strategies for building mind, body, and spirit beyond what the world has ever seen—strategies so ridiculous and irrational that I will not speak them aloud for fear of derision and laughter from friends and passers-by, on top of the inevitable objections from my own wife. I’m afraid I will have to execute my plan in secret. I, at least, have the presence of mind to be embarrassed about the whole thing.

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