Sometimes I look at my daughter’s schedule and ask myself why I agreed to let her do all these things. Extracurricular activities five days a week. Endless reading challenges. An enrichment program for gifted children at an elite prep school on the weekends. She’s only 9 years old, after all.

Then I hear her talk about her future goals, and one terrifying word repeatedly comes out of her mouth: “Harvard.”

I want my kids to dream big. To set and achieve goals. To believe they can be and do anything. I am also a realist. I know that 96% of the brilliant, qualified, well-rounded kids who apply to Harvard every year get the sting of a rejection email in their inboxes. Those 12+ years of plans, dedication, and dreams come down to, in so many cases, little more than luck in the final round of an admissions officers review.

When my daughter started asking about colleges and learning about places like Harvard and the Ivy League, I wanted to encourage her curiosity. But now it makes me wonder: Am I setting her up for crushing disappointment? Molding her into a type A perfectionist who will never settle for an A when an A+ was possible? Or will she academically burn out by the time she hits high school?

Realistically, planning and working toward an Ivy League admission starts well before high school. So if this is more than a phase for my daughter and turns into a real and true goal as college nears, I want her to be as well prepared as possible. But how much of the carefree childhood I’d hoped for her am I willing to see her sacrifice in service to this dream?

I firmly believe an education is never a waste of time or resources. But setting her life up to revolve around an admission to Harvard feels on par with parents planning their child’s life around a future as an NFL quarterback. Is it possible? Yes. Is it likely? No. Toeing that line has become the source of a solid percentage of my parental stress.

I don’t have a crystal ball. Her dreams may come true, or she may find a new dream. For now, she is happy doing all of her activities and enrichment programs. But, should the day come when these dreams are causing more stress than fulfillment, I’m going to remind her that there are plenty of wonderful colleges in the world that aren’t surrounded by Ivy-clad gates.

Maybe she will view it as a relief. Maybe she’ll view it as a challenge. Until then, I will ensure she knows I love her regardless of her future alma mater — and I’ll do everything I can to support her as I’m able.