The problem with buying festively wrapped Reese's cup minis is that you cannot in fairness be snarfing them all day in front of your salivating toddler while telling her, "No more candy, eat your banana!" You have to invent reasons to sneak off to the kitchen and furtively shove one in your mouth, then saunter off as though it's all Business As Usual.
But that was not my point. My point today was about Preschool Politics (i.e. other parents' subtle and not so subtle comparisons of YOUR child to THEIR much more remarkable and advanced child) and how I loathe them so very much. First of all, let me say as a disclaimer that I am no less prone to this shameful habit than any other parent. I feel the urge to brag about my kid's cuteness and genius, too, and I am no stranger to those private comparisons to other people's kids. But I try to keep them PRIVATE. I try not to, say, ask every other parent in the room when, specifically, their child turned two, then nod at my own child knowingly and say, "Ah, THAT's why..." The end of that sentence presumably being, "...These other kids seem like such drooling idiots compared to you."
I love all the other parents in our Kindermusik class, but there's this one dad who drives me nuts on a regular basis. He just acts so superior, and his kid is always dressed in preppy little outfits complete with Bass Weejuns. The dad is always asking him questions designed to show off his brilliance, such as, "William, can you count to ten in Spanish for the group? William, can you show Miss Amy how you learned to tie your shoes already? William, can you explain The Theory of Relativity to the rest of the kids?" And so on.
Bonus Humiliating Anecdote!! So the holiday season is upon us, and with it many occasions for some indulging in the spirits. So I was thinking, since I'm not on the pill yet and not getting periods, it might be a good idea to take a p.t. test just to be absolutely sure I'm good to go with the drinking this Christmas (alcoholic that I am.) So I go into the Dollar General (the ghetto Wal-Mart!) to buy one of their cheapo generic tests, only to discover that you have to request them at the counter now. As opposed to what I used to do when I was trying for Eli, which was grab them buy the handfuls out of a big ole' Bin O' Pee Sticks.
So I stand in a line winding halfway to the back of the store, then quietly state my request to the cashier. Who SHOUTS ACROSS THE ROOM in front of the approximately thirty customers waiting behind me, "Hey Andrea, do you have any PREGNANCY TESTS at your counter?" Andrea yells back, "No, but there's some in the back! Have a stocker go get you one!" Cashier No. One then SHOUTS to a nearby stocker, "Hey Chris, go get this girl some PREGNANCY TESTS!"
To make a long story short, I scurried out of the store, redfaced, without the test. I'm pretty sure I'm not in the family way, and definitely not concerned enough to wait for five minutes with a whole line of people tapping their feet behind me waiting for Chris The Stocker to go fetch me my pee stick. Gaah.