The Nugget Chronicles: Precocious, You Say?

Today, Nugget went to her two-year check-up. As we’ve become fairly used to hearing for her check-ups, she’s right at the top of the average plotted out height chart. To be fair, this time she actually landed ON the chart, but only by virtue of being at the top line, instead of hovering above it as she has done for every previous appointment. That puts her at slightly over three feet tall. If you believe the theory that height at two reflects half of eventual height, we’re looking at a six-foot tall giant living in our house. I’m betting she lands closer to the 5’8″-5’10” range, but, really, however tall she ends up being will be just fine. In fact, it might be nice if there’s someone else in the house who can get things off of the top shelves. I even have to use a step-ladder half of the time, so letting her get a couple of additional inches on me clearly won’t be a bad thing.

Aside from being tall, and lanky (because, despite the fact that we often feel she’s eating like she’s in training to be a teenaged boy, she’s still pretty darned thin), our doctor also said a few things to us that were unintentionally humorous. Things like, “She’s going to start testing her boundaries”, which was quickly amended to “testing her boundaries even more than she already has”. After all, Nugget has already been spending months determining exactly where the line is, and JUST how far she can step over it before Mama and I are at the end of our ropes. But hey, that conversation did lead to us getting complimented for figuring out that Nugget doesn’t really respond to us raising our voices when she’s misbehaving, since playtime is also generally loud. So hey, go team us!

The thing that really got me almost laughing out loud at the doctor’s office was when our doc said that, based off of how tall she is, how vocal she is, and how precocious she is, she’ll probably start getting mistaken for a child who’s at least one year older, if not more. It really took a lot to keep from laughing, because clearly the doctor doesn’t get to see Nugget more than once in a great while, and that’s for short bursts of time.

Look, anyone who’s spent decent amounts of time with Nugget clearly knows that she could pass for a child that’s a bit older. In her music class, she darned near towered over a four-year-old little boy (and seemed pretty intent on sitting on him). She’s got a fearlessness that makes other adults seeing her wonder if maybe the birthday she just recently had was at LEAST her third. And, vocabulary? She talks. A lot. For a while, she’d pause mid-sentence because she was trying to figure out the word to connect her thoughts together. Now, if she’s pausing, it’s because she’s got so many things she wants to say that she’s just tripping over her own tongue, and knows that she needs to slow down just a little to get it all out.

No, I have no idea where she gets that from. Stop looking at me like that. I’m trying really hard to slow down my speech.

Anyway, all of these things combined just make for a child that is growing in a lot of ways faster than her two years should indicate. Not to say that Nugget still doesn’t have a lot of two-year-old tendencies, because she does. But we’ve definitely noticed that other kids, especially slightly older kids, don’t seem to quite get that she’s only two. They play with her like she’s at least a year older, and the biggest barrier seems to be that she just doesn’t have quite as much language as they would expect her to have.

If things continue in this fashion, I fully anticipate that Nugget will be spelling words by the time she’s three, reading novellas by six, and (probably, terrifyingly) going on her first date by the time she’s twelve. I would say that she isn’t allowed to date until she’s displaying competency with upper-level math, but I’ve forgotten enough by now that she could totally throw numbers at me and I might believe it.

But yes. Nugget is precocious. And tall. And fairly fearless. It’s why I’m still somewhat amazed that she’s willing to hold hands every once in a while when we head out in public. After all, in her mind, and in the mind of others who interact with her, she’s clearly a slightly older child that is quickly developing the ability to take care of herself, and those around her.

Oh crap. She’s only holding my hand because she has realized I’m old (to her), and she thinks I need the extra help. This is how it starts, isn’t it?


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