Question of the day: Why do some people treat their children’s awareness or understanding of academic subjects as if it’s the 500 meter speed skating event? Have you ever experienced this phenomena when talking with a neighbor, friend, or family member?

Before I start hypothesizing, allow me to share some background.  After dropping off the car for service yesterday, we followed the courtesy shuttle driver to the van for a ride home. We ran into an 87 year old man that lived across the street from us for several years, until he moved in with his daughter two years ago.  He was a nice gentleman, but extremely nosy, and he lived (not a typo) to gossip.  We were friendly, but kept our distance.

When we began homeschooling, he and his 40 year old daughter began pestering us. Given a five second opportunity, he’d begin boasting about how incredibly brilliant his granddaughter is, and by the way, how smart is your son?  The daughter would actually attempt to grill our son on Historical facts. Terribly annoying. Matt and I were raised to show respect, kindness, and a stiff upper lip; we just dealt with it politely, recognizing that we certainly could say nothing to alter the situation.

Yesterday, after the shuttle driver dropped us at home, we settled in for the morning. Thirty minutes later, the doorbell rang. You got it – Grandpa stopped by.  My first reaction (I am such a sucker, and I never learn!) was “Great! I kind of miss the old guy and his tales of the past – this will be a nice living history lesson!”  Ha.  Ha, ha, ha.  I invited him in to have a seat (along with DS) and we proceeded to “chat” for 45 minutes. What an exercise in futility. I’d have preferred to have a cavity drilled.

Mr. Grandpa proceeded to elaborate for a full 30 minutes (“I don’t mean to brag… mind you… “) about the exceptional brilliance of his granddaughter.  Shy of bowing to her reverence, there was really nothing we could do. It was pathetically irritating. While making polite nods, and murmuring agreement, my head began to flirt with potential retorts.  I was raised better, however, and found that a dash of olive oil certainly would have helped me to swallow the words easier.

Mr. Grandpa proceeds to turn to my son and begin pushing for his activities.  “Well, what are you involved with? What activities do you excel at? Are you smart? Does your mom teach you well, or do you feel that you miss school? Do you have *any* friends?”   AAAARRRRGGGGHHHHH!!!!! Okay, here, I clipped it.  This was destructive rather than annoying.  I inserted a “Well, thanks for stopping by, please send your daughter and granddaughter our best!” remark. He took the hint and hightailed it to exit, stage right. Yet, as he was walking out the door, shouted out “Well, I wish you lots and lots of luck little man!” to my son.

Okay, so my child missed the gold, silver and bronze medal (in his opinion), and the anthem from Timbuktu vs. the USA played after that sporting event. Is this really a competition?  Who the heck are the judges?

What the heck causes this? I am grasping, but this is all I can come up with – am desperately seeking better theories!

1) Bragging rights. Proud Grandpas should have the right to brag about their grandchildren. It’s comes from love, and a certain amount of pride that they must have done something really right to have a lineage so brilliant.  I grasp this – but excessive pride?  Or pride that centers on comparison to another child?  Ick.

2) Parental guilt.  Most of us have witnessed some parents of traditionally schooled children weighing themselves against us and feeling threatened.  They might express a feeling of  “I could never do that… I give you credit”  and you can smell it on the wind – parental guilt that they can’t give something to their children.  Still others think they can detect a judgment from homeschooling parents that simply doesn’t exist – we’re certainly not inferring that we love our children more; we simply choose a different method of education. I can always pick out the individual when I see the thought of  “she’s a better parent than I am…  crap…”  float on the wind – the eyes give it away.

3) Genetic competition. I think that to some degree, we all battle the temptation to compare our kids against others, even if silently.  Think back to your child’s infancy, didn’t many of us pick up the “What to Expect…” books with our firstborn and compare where our child stood on the  “your child should be doing this… might be doing this… is a future Einstein if s/he’s doing this….”  Okay, maybe it didn’t have those exact categories.    How about the old standby “well, I managed to breastfeed for two years, I did what’s right for my baby!” Don’t those thoughts come streaking through if you’re dealing with an arrogant sister-in-law (that happened to bottle feed) who’s pushing your buttons at a family gathering? This whole competition thing is just weird for me. I really struggle to understand why it’s necessary, or why we seem to confront it as parents on a regular basis. Are we born with a microscopic gene that encourages us to strive to do our best while occasionally checking out the “competition” on either side of us as a marker?  Or is an ugly side of parenting that we have to carefully work to erase. Shoot, I’ve even thought it; DS was 10 pounds, 13 ounces and 25 inches tall at birth.  Why the heck I felt such pride at the fact he was the biggest baby in the nursery is beyond me. I didn’t do anything – he did all the work growing and absorbing nutrients in utero. But I wouldn’t approach someone with a preemie and boast, for goodness sake.

In conclusion, I realize that I simply don’t have a decent response when confronted with this.  What the heck do you say? I don’t want to offend (although I could certainly say that I am offended), and I don’t want to be rude.  Any suggestions? Any experiences you could share?