You know the type: those moms utterly convinced their kids are the absolute best. "Walking? He nailed that at 6 months! Eating? He'll devour anything—even my Brussels sprouts stew." Sure... as a seasoned mom of a 22-month-old, I've seen how conversations about kids can spark unintended rivalries.
This week, I reunited with an old primary school friend, Zara, at the ball pit with our toddlers (mine 22 months, hers 19). It started sweetly—until it didn't. I'd forgotten her competitive streak.
And then it happened...
"Is your daughter talking yet?" she asked after five minutes. "A bit," I replied. "Mostly our own baby language, but words are emerging." She eyed me skeptically, then beamed at her daughter: "Don't worry, it'll come. Felice is already forming full sentences and singing along. She's so advanced!"
My neck hairs stood up. Praising your own child is fine, but shading mine? Not cool. "Didn't Felice walk until 17 months?" I countered (petty, I know). Zara bristled: "That's not late. She could talk plenty then and just preferred being carried. I give her time—not like some pushy parents." Cue the mom defense mode.
Muttering about uneven toes, I chased my little one to play. He babbled innocently—no drama there. Zara followed, Felice in tow. "Let's snap cute pics!" she chirped, perching her daughter on an edge. Mine squirmed away. "Some kids march to their own beat," Zara quipped. "Felice never does!" (Deep breaths, Kim.) "Wow, impressive," I mumbled, helping my daughter up stairs. "Felice, show her how it's done!"
"Potty trained yet? Felice hasn't had an accident in ages." (Dam burst.) "Zara, have you enrolled Felice in school?" (Knowing she hadn't.) "Not till 3." Wide-eyed: "No! Luana's been signed up ages ago—spots are filling fast! You want the best for your gifted girl, right? I've got an appointment this afternoon." She stammered, stunned.
Petty? Yes. But we had a blast after: kids climbing, running, babbling together. Zara went quiet (bliss), though it's a shame motherhood can feel like an endless contest for so many.
Sound familiar?
