A letter arrived last week to invite us to a session to “Review Dexter’s Progress”. The letter was accompanied by an infinitely unhelpful leaflet detailing the milestones that Dexter should have reached by 8 months. Since then I’ve been grimly obsessed by those little email notifications from Emma’s Diary, SMA, Cow and Gate, Bounty etc.
Usually these emails are full of little bits of advice on everything from getting your baby to sleep, to weaning, to mum’s return to work. Now I’m beginning to see them in a whole new light and they’ve turned into biblical verse to worry and panic about. I’ve turned into armchair paediatrician! My office is the playmat and every second of the day is an opportunity to learn and develop Dexter’s coordination and motor skills. That appointment is looming and Dexter must be on form to get maximum points from the assessor. I’ve even planned my outfit so I look every inch the perfect mum.
Yes, I’ve gone mad. I’ve spent hours on google and visited forum after forum to elaborate on this piddly leaflet. I’ve posted whingey Facebook statuses about Dexter’s inability to babble and found myself in a constant state of anxiety. All this over this ridiculous list of expectations:
On each website there’s always an italicised caveat that “All babies are different and will develop at different speeds….” - then in the same breath, they launch straight into “… But they should be able to” - statements that are so brazenly conflicting it makes me want to track down the authors and enrol them in a writing course.
Standing (granted with a little help from mummy). Also - tipping his shape-sorter to release the good stuff, playing with his laptop and eating bricks! Perfect in every way.
So - no more! Enough is enough.
I’ve decided to disregard these stupid milestones and throw the leaflet away. Dexter can do 80% of these anyway and I’ve no reason to believe the rest won’t come in time. If my Dexter is a late developer I couldn’t be prouder of him. After all I think it was Michael McIntyre that once joked that you never pop round your mates house and have them answer the door on all fours. At some point all children learn what their legs are for and that they’ll get to their toys quicker on foot. Anatomically Dexter is perfect; with two legs two arms, a torso and a head. He’ll waddle eventually and there is no reason to rush him.
No longer will I be singing the alphabet repeatedly at him and bashing brightly coloured bricks together and barking “Dexter Do” in a desperate attempt to push causality theory on him. Dexter can continue with his “oh’s” and “ah’s” for as long as he likes - he’ll call me mummy when he’s good and ready and it will be as magical as ever.
In homage to my newfound sense of freedom I’ve removed the offending websites from my bookmarks and will no longer be stalking my Facebook friends to see what Little Freddy is doing. I’m going to use this free time to get on my hands and knees with Dexter and celebrate the amazing things he can do.
Right, I’m off to build a Galt Brick tower for Dexter to smash down.