Parental Savant Syndrome

When I was a kid, I noticed something strange about my parents. Sometimes they seemed to know EVERYTHING.

Once I was reading the Bible and my dad asked me to read it out loud. I read, “The proverbs of Solomon, son of David, king of Israel: for gaining wisdom and instruction…”

“Ah, Proverbs 1,” my dad said with a nod.

“How did you know that?!”

“Well, I’ve read the Bible before.”

Wow. He had read the whole Bible! Maybe more than once! He knew which chapter I was reading just by listening to a few words! I figured the guy must be a genius.

And one time, when Mom was sending me to my room for a nap, I tried to smuggle a contraband toy in there with me. As I walked past--suuuuuuper casually-- Mom said, “Nope. Put that toy away.”

“How did you KNOW?!”

“Because I’m a mom and I know things.”

Wow. It was getting creepy.

I remember asking Mom and Dad about pretty much everything. They knew what every word meant. They knew how everything worked. They knew about historical events and how the government worked and what things were made of and why we can’t breathe under water and how to get to space and how you SHOULDN’T try to get to space by making a cardboard-box-spaceship and lighting the bottom of it on fire! They knew it all.

But here’s the rub: they knew nothing about Ninja Turtles.

I know. It’s taken me years to admit it to anyone. 

They were completely ignorant on the subject. They couldn’t even NAME all four turtles! And if you tried to tell them the names, they thought you were talking about classical artists or something stupid like that!

And don’t even get me started on their Batman knowledge gaps! My mother still calls this guy “Half n’ Half.”

These lapses were embarrassing. But as I grew older, I started to realize that my parents weren’t uniquely disabled. It seemed that everyone had a father or mother (or both) who were very intelligent but incapable of understanding important things like comic books and cartoons. 

How does this happen? When did the epidemic begin? Can it be stopped?

Perhaps the most frightening moment of my life was when I realized that I, myself, was beginning to exhibit symptoms of this disorder. It happened when my son was discussing one of his favorite television shows, The Octonauts.

In the image above, do you see a little Penguin guy? That dude’s name is “Peso.” (Yes, like the Mexican currency.) Peso is a doctor. I doubt he's a surgeon because I don't see how that would work with flippers. But that's neither here nor there.

Well, the cat-pirate dude is NOT named Peso, he’s named Kwazii. He’s a pirate cat. (I don’t know what other information you’d need.) 

Anyway, I once called Kwazii by Peso’s name. My son gave me a look that oozed confusion and pity.

“Dad, that’s not Peso. It’s Kwazii.”

Pause.

“You were just joking.”

But that’s the thing. I wasn’t joking. Not even a little.

I have Parental Savant Syndrome. It's the ability to know a lot of things while being a complete dunce when it comes to cool kid topics.

My son asks me about everything, just like I used to ask my parents. We’ve discussed astronomy, theology, geography, zoology, history and politics. I’m usually able to answer his questions satisfactorily. And I like to think of myself as a “with it” kind of parent. I mean, we watch his shows together and we talk about what he likes to do with friends at school. We talk about his favorite characters, animals and athletes. I'm "with it," right? I know what's up! But you know what? I’ll bet MY parents thought they were “with it,” too!

So now I’ve started to notice little comments and corrections from my son.

“No, Dad. That one isn’t the Gup D, that’s the Gup V!” (Both are types of fictional submarines, by the way.)

“No, that’s not the dog’s name. Were you joking?”

“I’m not being a REAL gorilla, Dad! I’m one of those guys that uses a power suit to give him gorilla powers!” (Okay.)

It’s always hard to admit you have a problem. But I think admitting it is a good first step toward coping. 

My name is Matt and I have Parental Savant Syndrome.

There may not be a cure for PSS, but the symptoms can be managed with proper Google searching. Try typing "what are the names of all the Octonauts?" or "how did Kwazii lose his eye?" or "where does a penguin even go to medical school?"

I'm writing this blog post to raise awareness on the subject of Parental Savant Syndrome. Let's hope that when our children are grown, someone will have discovered the cure. Until then, just nod your head a lot and try to seem like you're down with whatever they're saying. What could go wrong?