We just came back from a barbecue filled with little ones. Actually, Gatito was the second oldest one there! The oldest, and the only girl, was my friend’s two year old, who adorably took the cheerios from my hand to feed to Gatito herself, an experience that’s not unlike feeding a llama at a petting zoo in slobber factor. He thanked her by grabbing onto her little skirt whenever she got close enough, focring her to pry the fabric from his little slimy fists. Possibly we adults could have been more helpful in that, but personally, I was laughing too hard to do much.
There was another couple there with fraternal twins a month younger than Gatito. It was clear from the second their mom told me they were 7 months old that they had been premature (and my friend confirmed that they were eight weeks early). I actually felt uncomfortable about Gatito’s extreme size and robust-ness. I mean, he’s not just a full term eight month old, he’s a full term eight month old who was born weighing over 9 pounds and was, at six months, in the 97th percentile for height. As he ate watermelon from the rind, sat and played easily on his own, and was just about as mobile as a baby can be without crawling, I couldn’t help feeling like I/he was somehow showing off and being insensitive.
Meanwhile, the whole time I was dying to ask her if she keeps a blog. Her babies’ names sounded so familiar and I can’t help feeling that I’ve read her story, though probably not regularly. It’s going to drive me crazy until I figure it out!
I know what you mean about feeling like you’re being insensitive or showing-off. My first, was also a big boy and motorically advanced ie. rolled over both ways at 9 weeks, crawled at 6 mos., walking at 9 mos.I’m modest, so his skill, although I was proud, sort of embarresed me.
Now, I’m on the other side with my daughter, who is a late talker and receiving speech therapy. I can’t help myself to compare and worry a little when we’re around her peers that are clearly more verbal.