I procrastinated and didn’t make Eli’s yearly appointment the recommended four months ahead of time so instead of having his yearly check-up around his birthday in February, we had it today.
Going to the doctor’s office is actually one of my favorite places to go because it is there that I feel I can brag about how awesome my kid is and it is totally acceptable. (I mean I guess I can brag here as well and people who don’t get a kick out of it can read someone else’s blog, but I do actually try to keep it to a minimum.)
When we go, I am given this list of developmental questions to answer. He’s always done pretty well on these questions and the sheets are cleverly designed so you can check the side and see what age each developmental milestone is pegged to. Most of the time he is between 4-6 months ahead of schedule. That’s cool. It always does a mom’s heart good to see that her kid is doing above average. I try very hard to be honest and not fudge. It aggravates me for people to assume that their children are more exceptional than everybody else’s kid just because they managed to win that particular kid out of the gene pool lottery. And most kids even out over time so even the brightest children usually become regular (more average) adults. Stephen and I are very conscious that just because he may seem bright now, it doesn’t mean he won’t have issues in some area later. Being “smarter” doesn’t mean he’s “better.” With all that said as an introduction, this is what happened to us today…
Previously, the questionnaires have been stuff for me to answer based on my interactions with Eli. This time, many of the questions I had to ask him and fill in his responses. We completed the front page with all yes answers and so I flipped it over and started on the back. Usually we get the prescribed three ‘no’ answers pretty quickly on the back and then we are done, that’s roughly the six month mark.
Eli was pinging around the exam room like a pinball. Opening the sink cupboard, running his car over the exam table and the support beam underneath, sticking his hand in the trashcan, flipping the light switch on and off, playing with the roll of paper on the exam table, asking for a snack, another toy, another book, a drink of water and all of that was in the first five minutes. So needless to say he wasn’t exactly focused on the questions at hand.
The back side of the questionnaire were the more complex versions of the front side questions. I had to ask him, “What do you do when you are tired?” And write down his response, “Take a nap!” “Point to the thing that flies.” “Draw a straight line here.” And on and on. We didn’t answer no to a single question.
Here is the blatant mommy bragging moment. I had to stick my head out into the hall and ask for the next questionnaire, yes that’s right, the four-year old questionnaire. The nurse looked at me in either horror or disgust, I’m not sure which, and said we’d get that one next year. I wondered for a moment if she thought I was lying about needing the next one. I guess my finish-everything-you-start OCD is showing here, I thought I needed to go on to the next page. That meant I needed to ask for it. And frankly, I wanted to see how many of the four-year old questions he could answer.
The doctor was suitably impressed with Eli’s performance with those questions and the one’s he asked Eli himself. He told Eli he was as smart as a four-year old and Eli got this very odd look on his face that I’m still not quite sure how to interpret. He is a healthy, active three-year old that the doctor promised me would learn to go to the potty. He said and reiterated several times not to let the outside pressure get to me about potty training, that he’d do it in his own time.
I guess he thinks he’s so smart he can learn to control the urine with the power of his mind. I’ll keep you posted on the results of those experiments. And while I haven’t actually done any research on this topic, I’m pretty sure that even Einstein had to pee in the potty just like everybody else.