Betty had her eight week appointment today. Her last big check up before she’s one. Her last chance to shine as a newborn. Time to set the bar. Time to blow the competition out of the water. Time to start living vicariously through my daughter and begin the mental scarring caused by the frequent and systematic placing of unnecessary pressure and stress on her tiny (yet most perfectly formed in the North West) shoulders. And thankfully (for her sake), Betty did not disappoint.
We have put in the legwork. Six breast feeds, four cans of spinach, two raw eggs and a packet of carpet tacs a day have given our girl the constitution of an ox and the breath of a homeless person. The hours spent encouraging Betty to turn her head, recite poetry and make her nipples dance were about to pay off.
Dropping us outside the medical centre, Betty executed the most immaculate parallel park I have ever seen. Thoughtlessly, there was no CCTV available, so this triumph was not catalogued in her medical notes. We took our seats in the waiting area while Betty stretched off. Despite the most polite of requests, the stingy receptionist refused to stick on the Rocky soundtrack CD I provided, so we had to make do with an inspiring pep talk. Pumped up and ready to excel, Betty was prepared to flex, grunt, tense and jiggle the competition into a nappy wetting frenzy.
We attached Betty’s competitor numbers to the front and back of her baby grow before presenting her to the doctor. The application of fake tan, baby oil and a forearm anchor tattoo was duly noted. Betty registered as a serious competitor. The room fell silent. Time to shine.
Ten minutes of scales, tape measures, stethoscopes and scribbling later, it was the moment of truth. Would we be hoisting our daughter aloft and parading her through the streets of Sutton Leach, or ‘accidentally’ leaving her behind at the clinic?
Hips – Perfect
Head control – Incredible
Eye sight – Flawless
Heart – Splendid
Lungs - Immaculate
Length – 54cm
And...the big one...
Weight – 14lbs 6oz
So, in a nutshell. Our daughter is consistently tracking at the 92nd percentile across all aspects of her physical development. She is ranked in the top 8% of the country. She’s one of those kids who excels at stuff, but at a cool level; she’s noticeably high flying, but not to the point where she might be considered nerdish and be subjected to a life without mates or dinner money.
In other words...she is the radiant, sparkling, accomplished, gifted child prodigy we anticipated she would be. With our DNA, tuition and ‘encouragement’, we would expect no less.
Now to begin training for her one year check. No pressure love...no pressure...