Thursday, February 14, 2008

Pebbles Smartypants

They tell you not to compare your kids. Not to stereotype them. No "Deenie's the beauty, Helen's the brain."


Yeah, right. You have two things that occupy the whole of your life. Both are little people, both magical combinations of your gene pool and your partner's. Not compare and contrast? That would be like telling a baseball fanatic not to pay attention to statistics.


Especially with this blog as a record, I can't help noticing the differences: That Nutmeg spoke 60 recognizable words at age 1, while Pebbles speaks about 6. That Pebbles took five steps yesterday (Who let the dogs out? Whoop, whoop!), while Nutmeg wasn't even doing those quick little "I'm falling" steps until at least 13 months.


So some part of me has already concluded that Nutmeg is the brain, the actress, poet or Shakespearean scholar, while Pebbles is the jock, or maybe the engineer, the nerves-of-steel attorney or the iron-fisted dictator.


It was therefore kind of a wakeup today when our pediatrician and the medical student in the room could not stop marveling over how smart Pebbles is.

For those of you who aren't at the doctor's office every other day like we are this winter, sometimes it happens that a medical student comes in before the doctor to practice practicing medicine. A cute guy in his early 20s came in and showed his stethoscope to Pebbles, and she grabbed it and placed it in the middle of her chest. She's been to the doctor so much she knows exactly where the stethoscope goes.
After some coaxing, he also got her to open up for the tongue depresser. Then he asked Nutmeg what grade she's in ("I'm just in preschool, silly!") and left.
He came back a few minutes later with our doctor, who went through the exam again. Nutmeg decided to pant at Pebbles like a dog during this, and Pebbles panted right back.
The doctor remarked that she had never seen a 1-year-old pick something up so quickly, and the med student told her what she'd done with the stethoscope. Then the doc came at her with the tongue depresser and she opened right up.
They both agreed they'd never seen such a smart 1-year-old.
Pebbles, sensing she was the center of attention, showed off her new three-step toddle and stood there, wearing nothing but a diaper, applauding herself.
Nutmeg, after being so hyper and naughty at her last doctor visit, was so charming that they said she ought to be an actress. And that she was one of those kids who would do great at whatever she chose to do.
For mommies who crave approval from authorities, pediatric endorsement like that is manna. I left beaming.

3 comments:

Anonymous said...

You left with every right in the world to be beaming.

Kori said...

Hurray! What a great visit. :)

Personally, I think Pebbles has 6 words instead of 60 because, let's face it, what does she really need to say? She's so active, so personable, so clever, she gets to and want she wants without having to ask.

And honestly, if your older sister was as loquacious as hers, you might just want to devote that precious brain energy to listening, not speaking. Nutmeg has some great stories to ponder. :)

BTW, how was your trip?

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