Boy and Girl Child brought home mid-year reports. Which are like report cards, except they are not written on the actual card. Why they were not just written on the actual card, I have no idea. Who am I to judge? There is probably some school law regarding it.
Anyway. They brought them home. And being siblings and all, they compared them.
As I've mentioned before, Boy Child has struggled since his early entrance into this world. He's been shorter and slower and a little behind, whereas Girl Child has legs up to her neck and reads at a sixth grade level.
Lately, though, Boy Child has gotten taller. He's still a skinny thing, but he's solid. He's always had excellent deductive reasoning skills and he's always been a thoughtful little soul, but lately, he can do math in his head. And lately? His reading scores have dramatically improved. And by dramatically I mean I went to visit his teacher and she said he was reading on grade level and I began to cry, right in the classroom, with sheer pride.
To overachievers this sounds weird. I know. I'm an overachiever.
But to me, as a mother, who had to see this little child lying in an incubator, fighting to be alive? This is nothing short of an absolute miracle.
Boy Child, however, was concerned by his report and came to me and said, "Are you sad that Girl Child did better in reading than I did?"
I said, "Boy Child! Oh my Lord! NO! You did AWESOME! You are AVERAGE! Boy Child! Average! Being average ROCKS! When you were born you weren't supposed to LIVE! Then the doctor said you would be profoundly retarded! The fact that you are average is amazing!"
Boy Child paused, "The doctor said I would be profoundly retarded?!?!?!"
I said, "Yeah! What did he know, right?"
Boy Child said, "Mom? I want to take my report and fax it to the doctor and then call him up on the phone and be all like, 'Hey Doctor! SUCK IT! I'M AVERAGE!'"
I wonder. I wonder if I can ever make him see how very far above average he really is.