I'm Lindsay Ferrier, a Nashville writer with a passion for family travel, exploring Tennessee, and raising kids without losing my mind in the process. This is where I share my discoveries, along with occasional deep thoughts, pop culture tangents and a sprinkling of snark. Want to get in touch? Use the CONTACT form at the top of the page.
April 7, 2006
>During play group a few weeks ago, my 23-month-old, Punky, decided to stir things up a little.
“Fifteen. Fourteen. Thirteen. Twelve…,” she began loudly, taking blocks out of a bucket.
The room grew quiet as moms turned to stare. Sensing her audience, Punky continued with gusto, counting all the way down to “…Three! Two! ONE! Yayyyyyy!” she clapped wildly for herself.
“She can count backward from fifteen?” one of the moms asked flatly. “Charlie’s a month older than Punky and he barely knows five words.”
Immediately, I entered apology mode. “Oh, she’s just a good mimic,” I said quickly. “I was, too, at her age. It’s nothing. She didn’t walk until she was almost 15 months.”
I held my breath. I knew Charlie had been an early walker and luckily, my explanation seemed to work. Mollified, Charlie’s mom began talking about an upcoming consignment sale. I exhaled and looked over at Punky. Little show-off, I thought with a mixture of pride and embarrassment.
Although I secretly think Punky is the smartest toddler the world has ever known (Doesn’t every mom feel the same way about her baby?), I don’t want the other moms to know that. I want Punky to fit in with their kids. Heck. I want to fit in with the kids’ moms. And so I find myself downplaying her vast vocabulary, passing it off on freakish genes, her talkative older sisters, or even too much TV.
But when the tables turn, watch out.
“My husband was very concerned when I told him Punky’s already counting to 15,” Charlie’s mom told me a few days later on the phone. “I told him not to worry, though, because Punky was a late walker. I mean, she doesn’t even run yet, and Charlie’s been running forever!”
“She can too run!” I sputtered defensively. “She’s a great runner. She’s really fast! In fact, she’s running right now!” I looked down at Punky standing below me and patted her on the bottom to try and get her moving. In response, she plopped down on the floor.
“Hey, Punky! Come back here!” I panted into the phone for effect. “I can’t keep up with this kid!”
After all, I can’t have anyone thinking her child’s better than my Punky, now can I?
This post was originally written for DotMoms.
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