While picking up Jared at daycare today, the teacher told us that he could do something none of the other kids could do, and she was obviously very impressed.
Naturally, I didn't care at all that my kid was advanced in any way because I am not competitive at all; after all, there's no point, kids grow and learn at different rates and there's no shame in being slower than others. Jared himself was a very late walker.
But back here in the real world, I felt the teeniest - just the teeniest - twinge of pleasure at hearing this (ahh yes, it's because of how I raised him, I'm that good of a mother).
Except when I heard what the thing was that he could do so well: eat a popsicle. Stop the presses! My boy can eat a popsicle properly (you know, like an ear of corn, down and around). Couldn't it have been something like, oh I don't know, cite the gettysburg address? Or tie a shoe?
Ah, who am I kidding... I am still in some strange way proud that my boy can eat a popsicle "properly".
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