Cult Following

K is not a normal kid. Never has been. I suspected he wasn't normal when the old ladies shook their heads sagely over my infant son and said, "Honey, don't ever have another one, because you will never have one like that again." I knew he wasn't normal when he stood by the window at barely 16 months old and clearly asked, "When Daddy coming home?" It was pretty clear when he began reading at three years old and writing his own books at four that the kid had brains. But it is more than talking early, or reading and writing early...something I can't always put my finger on. His precociousness goes beyond mere intelligence; he's strangely mature in the social, emotional, and spiritual areas as well. We often nod our heads over him (vaguely reminiscent of his earlier prophetesses) and comment, "He's an odd duck."
Typically, really smart children have difficulty fitting in with their peers. We decided early on that we would keep him at his age level and not push for him to "skip" grades as he is quite capable of doing; we wanted him to learn to socialize with children his own age. I've waited and watched for this struggle to unfold, armed and ready to help my child overcome, but my fears never materialized. Therefor, I was quite unprepared for the pendulum to swing in the opposite direction. And I am left wondering, "What do we do now?"
It's a concern that has been building all year, but with the end-of-school hoopla has hit me full force.
At first, it was the occasional encounter at the grocery store or gas station: "Are you K______'s mother?" (asked in hushed, almost reverent tones) or "Did you say Su____? As in, K_____ Su______?! (excited, as though they had just met a celebrity). Little things that left me shrugging my shoulders and thinking, "Well, that was...wierd." There were unexplained--pricey--presents at Christmas and "secret admirer" Valentines in February. Then once, when I was walking K out of school, a young man and his mom were on their way in, I heard the boy whisper, "Mom! Mom!! That's him right there!! That's K_____!" K smiled at the pair and I thought the kid was going to bust from the acknowledgement. When we got in the car, I asked K who it was, embarrassed that I didn't recognize a special friend of my son's. K stared at me blankly, not comprehending. He had no idea who the kid was. "I was just being friendly, Mom."
I'm not up at his school much, so I had no way of knowing that these were not isolated incidents. But between honor's programs and field trips, dinner theatre and track day, I've come to the startling conclusion: my child has a cult following. They love K. They yearn for him to speak to them. It is considered a privilege--a fourth grade status symbol--to be noticed by him. They think he is capable of anything and everything. And it is not only the children! Parents--many parents--have approached me, singing his praises, applauding his conduct, and asking my parenting advice. THESE PEOPLE ARE COMPLETE STRANGERS! One mother even admitted to me that she has instructed her son to spend as much time possible with K, going so far as to ask the teacher to move her child's desk next to his. I'm not making these things up, ladies! So far, I haven't observed anyone reaching out to lay hold of the hem of his garment, but frankly, at this point, it wouldn't surprise me. I've gone from feeling proud, to flattered, on to awkward, and finally to wondering if a restraining order is called for.
But how do you "restrain" an entire town? And how do I keep my son from becoming an insufferable ego-maniac? Even if he remains sweet and loving, I'm not at all sure the stress of being placed on so high a pedestal is good for him. The pressure of everyone always watching you? Until, maybe one day, they stop. I mean, what happens if the popularity train pulls into the station and puts him off? I've never had that kind of popularity, so I don't know how people react when it's gone. And what about the other five? I don't envy their growing up in his shadow that's for sure. Abby is already chafing under it; she's mad at the kids on the bus for calling her "K's sister." I can empathize. I'm getting a little tired of being called "K's mom" myself.
Suggestions?