I recently went to lunch with a gal whose son is in the same class as my eight-year-old, Alex. She’s really a very nice person but tends to do this weird one up thing when we talk about our kids. I tell her my son did X and she responds with my son did XYZ. It’s nutty and amusing all at the same time.

No less than five minutes into our lunch conversation she proclaimed her son was perrrfect. I barfed in my mouth a little. What kid is perfect? I immediately began to panic. I love my sons but they’re south of perfect boarding quirky. As their mom, I’ve learned to accept them as unique individuals and love their idiosyncrasies. That’s because I know in the back of my mind the apple doesn’t fall too far from the tree!

I was intrigued. What makes her son perfect? Does he help the elderly cross the street? Does he trick or treat for UNICEF rather than hoard candy on Halloween? What is it that makes her kid so stellar? I did what any enthralled mother would do, I asked.

She puffed up and immediately began to expound. “My son is polite, quiet and obedient.” I had to bite my tongue to keep from laughing out loud. It sounded like she was describing a pet rather than a child. Don’t get me wrong. These are all wonderful attributes we hope our children possess sooner rather than later. However, some of us have been blessed with an entirely different program.

As she prattled on I drifted off and began to think about my boys. They’re loud, inquisitive and blaze their own trail. They laugh over nothing and fight over everything. They’re mischievous, sweet and very independent. In my book, they’re awesome.

In that moment I realized that even a perfect diamond has flaws. I want my home to be filled with the sound of laughter, chatter and even chaos. I want my children to feel joy and learn disappointment. I want them to try their best and follow the path they were truly destined to explore (although I pray that path doesn’t involve any pictures on the post office wall). In the end, my kids are real, which is a far cry from “perfect.”

I started to think about parents and their funny obsession with transforming their children into miniature adults. I often wonder why kids are no longer allowed to act like kids. I remembered a quote I once heard that went something like “genius is nothing more than childhood recaptured.” Which leaves me to wonder, what will become of all the mind-numbing, generic children who are far too polite? My guess, retail store greeter!