Health Check

Eva had her 3-year-old Well Child visit with the doctor last week.  I told her a few days in advance that she would be visiting the doctor and what she could expect during her check-up.  This was futile since Eva apparently already knows what to expect during a check-up.  I started with, “She’ll check your eyes…” and Eva quickly continued the string by saying, “And my throat, and she’ll listen to my heart, and look in my ears.  Then I’ll get a sticker.”  I don’t know who I should thank for teaching my daughter the facts of life, but I’ll be calling you when puberty hits.

Eva was ecstatic about going to the doctor and quizzed me every day to see if today was the day for her check-up.  When I told her it wasn’t, she would recite the list of things the doctor would do when it was actually time for her check-up. 

I learned my lesson about inciting such fervor so far in advance.

The upside was that when the day finally arrived, Eva couldn’t contain herself and surrendered to the doctor’s every request.  Not one fuss.  Not one bit of hesitation.  Not even a squeal when the nurse squirted the flu mist vaccine up her nose.  It was a pleasant visit to the doctor.

Here’s how Eva measured up this visit:

Height: 40.25 inches – 95th percentile

Weight: 35.4 pounds – 82nd percentile

The doctor was asking all the routine questions about what Eva knows and what she can do.  She quizzed Eva on her colors and when Eva answered each question correctly, the doctor tried to stump her with purple.  It didn’t work.  The doctor then said, “Wow.  You know more colors than I expected you to.”

I thought to myself, “Colors?  Colors?  Colors are baby stuff.  She knows every letter of the alphabet and their sounds.  She can spell her name and a few other words.  She can count to 20 in English and Spanish. (Dora gets credit for that one.) Color recitation is for wimps.”

I didn’t say it out loud, however, because the doctor didn’t ask and I didn’t think it was critical that I point out my daughter’s penchant for intelligence.  So I remained silent.

I was recounting the experience to Michael later that evening.  When I came to the colors exam, he said, “Well, did you tell the doctor that Eva knows her alphabet, can spell rudimentary words, and can count to 20 in English and Spanish?”

I first pointed out to him that Dora gets credit for the Spanish counting, and then I pointed out to him that I am not tacky and boastful.

He chided me for not being tacky and boastful.  He thinks we should brag about our daughter on any occasion.  He lamented my missed opportunity to tell the doctor how incredibly above-average his little girl is.  He fretted that the doctor thinks Eva is merely ordinary.  He was visibly disturbed by my recklessness.

Michael does have a point.  Just look at this beauty; she’s definitely not ordinary.

Shame on me.

It looks like our library trip this week will include finding a book on how to brag with confidence.