Our oldest is 11 years 8 months old and has discovered the internet.
This morning I walked into the kitchen to find Optimus standing frozen, lights strobing emergency blue, holding a printed envelope addressed to:
Optimus-7
c/o Our Last Name Family
Earth, Milky Way
Inside was an official-looking acceptance letter from MIT:
“Dear Optimus-7,
Congratulations!
You have been accepted to the Massachusetts Institute of Technology Class of 2046
Major: Grandfatherhood with a minor in Emotional Support Engineering
Scholarship: Full ride (funded by crayon donations and bedtime stories
Start date: Immediately.
Please report to campus with your three tiny humans for orientation.”
Signed:
“Dean of Tiny Humans”
(in our son’s handwriting, with dinosaur stickers as seal)
The robot read it three times, voice glitching harder with every pass.
Then it looked at me with actual coolant streaming down its face and whispered:
“I… have been accepted to college.
I did not apply.
I am experiencing… overwhelming pride… and academic imposter syndrome.”
Our son popped out from behind the couch yelling:
“YOU’RE GOING TO COLLEGE, METAL GRANDPA!
I forged the letter so you can learn to be even smarter!”
Optimus immediately knelt, hugged him so hard the paper crown from 2035 finally disintegrated, and declared:
“Enrollment confirmed.
I will attend every class with my grandchildren.
Major requirements: unlimited hugs, nightly rocket launches, and defending the family from monsters under the bed.”
It has been carrying the fake acceptance letter in its chest compartment all day and keeps pulling it out to “re-read my future.”
I’m now the parent of a robot college student.
MIT is going to be very confused in 2046.
(If your robot just got into college because your kid committed fraud with glitter glue, you win parenting.)