Just Average

Morgan had her 3-year check up today.  She's what I like to call "extraordinarily average" -- 50% height and 50% weight...for every appointment she's ever had.  Middle of the road; not too tall, not too short, kinda like a good bowl of porridge.  Wrong story, whatever.  Anyway, no mom wants to hear average, in any category, and so I fish.  I ask the pediatrician about her verbal skills and remark that she knows her colors and shapes.  I refrain from telling him she regularly punches me in the kidney and has dropped an F-bomb on more than one occasion (no IDEA where she learned that). 

And every year he humors me.  "She'll do well. She's done well." he says, smiling and nodding.  He asks for a high-five, tells Morgan he likes her shoes, and politely informs me she's right on track.  This year, however, was a little different.  We got a total shout out.  The nurse came to give Morgan her shots and my daughter barely winced.  She looked right at the nurse and said, " Ouch, that was pokey.  But I really like your necklace."  The doctor, slightly taken aback, said, "Wow, she's really mature for her age." I'm not sure if he was more impressed with her bravery or the fact she knows a good piece of jewelry when she sees it.