I'm a full supporter of Carol Dweck's research and philosophy of fixed and growth mindsets.  I talk about them to clients daily.  I do my best to emphasize hard work and effort with my children.

But, there are some who do seem hardwired to be one way or the other.  Watch this video to see one of the first times I saw perfectionism in Sparky.

This is such a great example of the frustration that kids can have when they face asynchronous development.

What was the first sign of perfectionism that you saw in your child?

In many ways, IQ tests are a necessary evil in the gifted education world. The states that provide funding for gifted education programs set standards with which school districts must comply to receive this funding.

In my state of Missouri, the state limits school districts to identifying no more than 5% of a district's student body as intellectually gifted. This gets confusing as funding and regulations change year-to-year, but the ultimate result is that of a moving target. Your child may be gifted in one district, but unable to receive services if you move a few miles down the road.

Add into that the issue of different tests and different versions of tests being used by each independent school district, and the water becomes even more muddied.

So, here I am. A mom of a bright boy, an experienced educator of gifted children, and a professional counselor who specializes in working with high-potential children. I know that my son, Sparky, is smart. I know that he has been doing things developmentally that are generally beyond those of most kids his age. I know that he is an emotionally intense little guy with some social anxiety and a few sensory-avoidant behaviors related to food and clothing.

But: Is he GIFTED?

Being given the title of gifted as he enters first-grade would allow him access to the pull-out program in his district. He'd be exposed to different types of instruction and experiences. He'd be with the smart kids and maybe that would, in turn, perhaps give him opportunities he wouldn't already have.

I could coach him on the types of questions the test would ask and spend hours on the evenings and weekends practicing with similar puzzles and spatial reasoning tasks. I could purchase a membership to a website that would promise to enhance my child's score with sample test items specific for the exam he would take.

Or, I could just let him do his best.  And let that be okay.

So, okay - - maybe he doesn't qualify for the gifted program. What does that mean exactly?

It means he has the chance to excel and develop a growth mindset in his classroom.

It means that I can continue to challenge him and help him to explore his interests at home and with other community programs.

It means that he is still my smart, sensitive boy.  He didn't do well enough on a particular test on a particular day to get into a program that relies on a quantitative test result to determine whether or not he can participate.

It does not mean anything more than that.

And, personally, even as someone who works specifically with children and adults who get the label, I know that it is only that and nothing more.

Yours truly,
The World's Okayest Mom

Q:  You know what is the hardest thing about being a counselor that works with families and kids?

A:  Play-doh in the carpet.  (And, yes, I mean "in," not "on," because after the Play-doh crumbs fall on the carpet, they are inevitably ground into it by someone's Croc-clad foot.)

But, you know what else is hard about being a counselor that works with families and kids?  Being a parent that is a counselor that works with families and kids.

As the school year came to a close, my son's kindergarten class was doing an "Alphabet Countdown" to the last day of school.  "T" day was "Teddy Bear Picnic" day and each child was allowed to bring a teddy bear from home.  The letter from the teacher specifically said "Teddy bears should be NO LARGER than a backpack."

Sparky and I spent the evening before Teddy Bear Picnic day discussing which teddy bear would be making the trip to school with him the next day.  Sparky is notorious for having a difficult time making decisions, especially when he has his mind set on something.

We have approximately 63,000 teddy bears in our house.  We were able to narrow the choices down to four.  Three of these fit the size requirements.  One was as big as the six-year-old that wanted to take it to school for the picnic.

We talked it out.  We discussed the pros and cons.  I set clear limits.  "Okay, Sparky.  You don't have to decide on which bear to bring tonight, but you can NOT bring the big bear.  Your teacher said it has to fit inside your backpack."

The morning was typical.  Sparky had to get a ride to school for P.E. club early; the rest of us were rushing to get to where we needed to be on time as well.  After my husband and Sparky had left for school, I walked by Sparky's bedroom and saw all of the approved teddy bears still on the bed.

I raced to get my cell phone.  Sparky must have forgotten his teddy bear.  The phone rings and my husband answers.  "Sparky forgot his teddy bear!" I told him.

"No, we've got it," he says.  I felt my forehead crease in confusion.

"You do?"  I began to put the pieces together.  "Which one did he bring?"

"The big one.  He buckled it into the seat next to him."

My stomach sank as my frustration built.  This was deliberate; he knew which one to bring.  My Mom instinct kicked in:  I can leave right now, rush to the school, bring an appropriate teddy bear, and just be a few minutes late to work, thus saving the day in SuperMom fashion.

Then, the Counselor brain chimed in:  He knew which teddy bear he was supposed to bring.  If he doesn't have the teddy bear, he'll be okay, and maybe he'll learn something in the process.

I knew what would come next.  The Mom Guilt.  But what if he is the only one without a teddy bear?  What if he feels left out?  It really isn't that big a deal for me to bring up a different one for him.  I don't want him to feel sad when it would be SO EASY for me to make it right!

That Counselor nag started hurling psychological mumbo-jumbo at me.  Love and Logic!  Natural consequences!  Enabling behavior!

I sighed.  I explained to my husband the situation.  We made Sparky leave the teddy bear in the car and he teared up a little, but pulled it together by the time they arrived at school.  (The teacher ended up having a few extra teddy bears for the kids who forgot theirs, so my Mom Guilt felt somewhat appeased.)

Ultimately, the Counselor side won this battle. 

But, it is an ongoing war to make hard choices about how to parent.  I *know* what I should do; I often *feel* like I should do something else.  Luckily, I don't think I've messed up too badly...  so far.  :)

I know you know what I mean.

Yours truly,
The World's Okayest Mom