December 03, 2005

My Toddler Can Kick Your Toddler's Ass: Or, For the Love of God, People, Shut UP!

So today was a birthday party for one of the little girls who attends The Boy's daycare/preschool. The Boy was excited, as was I, because girl parties mean I get to make a foray into the Aisles Of Pink at the local Target and buy cool stuff like Cinderella dress-up accessories and 40,000 other small, shiny baubles that will never end up burning out the motor in my vacuum cleaner. Ha! And also, I get to laugh at the plastic male counterparts of the Bratz Turbo Slut Rock Hookers dolls or whatever the hell. And I thought Ken was emasculated. Dear God. Those Bratz boys are $3,000 in tricks away from their first transgendering treatment. But I digress.

The party in question was held at the Downtown Designated Play Confinement Area and Education Camp for Children of Raleigh, ta-da (no real names today, alas).

Full disclosure - Last night was our Sunday school class' Christmas social, and may I just say that pomegranate martinis are the bomb. (Lay off, we're Methodists. We don't have to lie about likker and dancin'.) So maybe today I was just a BIT more sensitive than usual, and had slightly less tolerance (yes, wiseasses, it is possible for me to be LESS tolerant) for parental one-upmanship.

Now it's not what you're thinking--the one-upsmanship was not coming from among the parents of The Boy's classmates, although I admit I didn't spend all that much time socializing with them, preferring instead to perch on a castle parapet and occasionally holler "BOO!" through the dungeon window at The Boy and his buddy. They loved it.

However, toward the end of the afternoon I was hanging out near the train table, counting the minutes until 3:30 and idly observing two toddlers--one with his dad, another with his mom. The topic turned to the usual: age and size percentiles, with the father waxing poetic about his 22 month old's Ginormous Noggin. Here's something you don't hear every day, a father proudly proclaiming:

"Yeah, we had to get him an MRI 'cause his head was so big!"

Dude. Have you seen YOUR head? 'Cause, big. And I realize that a 22 month old hasn't had much opportunity to win the MVP Little League trophy, but it's okay. You don't need to get a head start on the competition. Yes, pun so very intended.

Not to be put off, normal-sized-head-child's mom went into a dissertation on teaching her 13 month old son sign language, and as I winced in anticipation, went on to outline his future educational trajectory, omitting only the Nobel Prize in Sciences and ascension to the papacy.

I wanted to grab them both by the shoulders and say, "Listen to me. You have the rest of your lives to brag about the fact that you're putting insane pressure on your kids to achieve. Can't you cut them a break while they're still crapping their pants?"

But that sort of thing doesn't go over well in a room with walls papered with "helpful parenting tips" about "introducing your child to the wonders of reading/science/math/diversity/world cultures/etc" by age 2 months.

So in the end, I went back to scaring the crap out of 4 year olds in a pretend dungeon. And I'm proud to announce that my son managed not to crack his 75th percentile head open on anything while running around like a spaz.

Posted by Big Arm Woman at December 3, 2005 08:06 PM

Imus preps his wife for an impending first play-date for the 12wk old kid (October 7, 1998)

It's amazing I could find the tape.

Posted by: Ron Hardin at December 4, 2005 02:25 PM

"Lay off, we're Methodists. We don't have to lie about likker and dancin'."

I think I'll start going to church again...

Posted by: Andrea Harris at December 4, 2005 07:03 PM

I got roped into taking The Princess to a Birthday Party for her 5-year-old friend at Chucky Disease. I was one of only two fathers there, and there were a lot of Stepford-Wifeish type moms bragging on their kids.

Luckily, my daughter already knows how to make a proper fist and throw a proper punch (gotta get that shoulder turn working), so I knew my kid could kick their kids' collective heinies. I managed not to share that with them, however. Instead, I got into a good conversation with the only other dad, who told me that their 5-year old is already taking ju-jitsu lessons. So now I know which kid my daughter should hang out with.

The best part of the night came on the ride over when she said, "If Chucky tries to hug me, I'm, going to punch him in the head. I don't want a kiss from a rat".

So, I guess she's learning the important things.

Posted by: The Unknown Professor at December 4, 2005 08:20 PM

My son had no interest in books, except to eat them, until he was three. And no, I didn't expose him to Mozart in utero either. He does have a big head; which means it's hard for him to put on/take off crew necked anything.

Posted by: Calvinista at December 8, 2005 04:32 PM