Just As Good

Every man in the world is better than someone else and not as good as someone else.
William Sarovan

As an avid people watcher (okay, fine, nosey busybody), I find it interesting to watch mothers of similar age children when they get together. It must be natural instinct to compare children and try to show how your child is naturally superior to another. Maybe in the caveman days of survival of the fittest, it was a quest for one mother to show others that her child was more fit to survive. No matter what, and no matter how strongly she denies it, there is not a mother out there who doesn't compare her children to others of the same age.

This comes to mind because today I went to my daughter's Valentine's Day party at her daycare. This is a prime example of subtle (or not-so-subtle) competition. There were 4 mothers there. Since my daughter has just started, I don't know any of the other mothers, and it appeared they didn't know each other very well either.

The first leg of the competition is how your child reacts when you arrive. Do they run to the door to greet you? Do they smile? Yes and yes for me. I'm doing well.

Next, the size factor. Is my child bigger than other children. Somehow, I think this one too goes back to the days of the caveman, "My child bigger, better fed, I better mother." Well, mine's in the middle. She does wear the biggest shoe, though, does that count for something?

And, of course, the all important intelligence factor. This is a biggie. You don't want your child to be the slow one in the class. At 18 months or so, talking seems to be the biggest factor showing intellingence, so every parent tries to get his/her child to speak. "Can you say grape?" The child obediently replies. Oh, one syllable. Gotta do better than that. "Can you say sandwich?" Two syllables. And from the parent at the end, "Can you say, 'I want more pineapple'?" Oooooh. Pineapple. Triple syllable score. And gotta give bonus points for trying for the sentence. Of course, this would be much more impressive if the child responded with something more than a screech of contempt for her mother trying too hard. My child, you ask? Pretty quiet. She can't say grape, sandwich, or pineapple. But, since she doesn't eat any of those, does it really matter?

My daughter is intelligent. She may not be a genius, but her ability to say pineapple doesn't necessarily determine the 150 IQ in my opinion. I'm doing it, aren't I? Trying to justify and explain how smart my daughter is in case someone is reading this and comparing their child to mine. See. It's human nature. We all do it.

In fact, it's not just humans. I once went to a zoo where their prize exhibit was the primates. A mother gorilla had given birth about two weeks prior to my trip. The zoo was proud of their habitats where the visitors seemed more in the cage than the animals. Only my mother and I were in the building, and the mother gorilla walked right up to the glass with her back to us. We stepped back because, well, this was a big gorilla on the other side of this glass which suddenly seemed really thin. She turned around and showed us her baby. I kid you not. She was showing off her baby gorilla to us. And we oohed and ahhed because the baby was so cute. Even gorillas see the need to show off their young.

To my husband who is working late this Valentine's Day, I love you. Thanks for the CD. Happy Valentine's Day. And to my parents, who must be the only ones left on the planet with dial-up, you need a cable modem. Or DSL. Anything but dial-up.