New parents love hearing praise for their progeny from other people. It’s like crack to us. The doctor said that Baby was “remarkably alert” at her 8-week check up. Remarkably alert?! Why, thank you! [eyes roll back ecstatically]
Translated, it meant that Baby looked at the doctor’s fingers when she snapped them. Hardly a predictor of genius.
But that doesn’t matter. I didn’t really hear the “alert” bit. All I heard was that my child was remarkable in some way. She could have said that Baby had amazingly long toes or impressively pointy ears. Amazing. Impressive. Yes, my Baby is both of these things.
I’ve been keeping a careful eye on the “milestones” section at the back of Baby’s Red Book, filling in the weeks at which she reaches each one with religious zeal. Baby started rolling over at 11 weeks, three weeks ahead of the curve from what I understand. Every time she does it, I cheer her on like I’m Arsenio Hall. Is this what I’m going to be like for the rest of my life?
My father tells me a story about the time he came to watch a gymnastics demonstration at my primary school. I was on the programme to perform a floor act all by myself. I don’t think he was expecting much. After all, he never took me to gymnastic lessons, so how much could I know? Well, he was in for a surprise.
To this day, he still talks about how proud he was of me at that demo. I remember it clearly. I had chosen to do my routine to “The Heat is On” from the Beverly Hills Cop soundtrack. And I didn’t choreograph anything. I did the entire act on the fly. Since I didn’t have many friends [queue violins], I spent most of my recesses on my own doing flips on the monkey bars, watching the other girls who did go to gymnastics lessons and teaching myself how to do backbends and handsprings. I had fallen on my head a number of times, but I could do a cartwheel into a back handspring with the best of them. My dad was absolutely shocked and amazed at my little made-up routine, where I did my best Nadia Comaneci impression. And he cheered like Arsenio Hall.
When I watch my amazing, remarkable, and impressive Baby roll over, I feel so proud of her, like she’s just done an unchoreographed gymnastics routine. I am so looking forward to being her personal cheering section for the rest of my life.
Oh, and I took Baby to the doctor on Friday because she had a bit of diarrhoea. The doctor said she was a very good baby, mostly because she didn’t cry when the doctor used the tongue depressor. Heck, that’s as good a reason as any. Go, Baby! Whoop whoop whoop.