What my daughter knows

Today while we were waiting for story time to begin at B&N, H picked up a simple book and began to read. Another mom with a girl who appeared about the same age of H said to me, "Is she really reading that?"

H was slowly sounding words out, and then making up her own on some pages where the words were too big. I replied, "Yes, sort of. The parts she can."

"Oh my gosh. S (her daughter) is no where near close to being ready to read!"

I just smiled, because how do you reply to that?

Honestly, I loathe telling people or people finding out all the things H "knows." It's like being able to read and write and count, etc., etc., is worthy of an award.

It's not.

Not even at 3.

Don't get me wrong, I'm proud of H. And I'm proud of B. Regardless of their "accomplishments."

It drives me insane that people think their kids are brag-worthy. Or that mine are. Kids are kids. It doesn't matter what they know.

Quite frankly, they're all going to learn to read and write and do geometry, and maybe even chemistry. The when of it doesn't mean anything. If they're two, great. If they're twenty-two, great. It doesn't affect how well they know these things, just when. And as I said, the when doesn't matter.

I don't get credit for what H knows. That's all on her. She is the one who works hard. I despise that people think that it's okay to put their kids on display like little trophies.

Children aren't trophies.

H knows a lot. I will admit that. She knows a lot for her age, especially. But all those kids who are her age right now will know the same things in a year or two and then it won't be a big deal. And there are certainly kids her age, and younger, who know much more than she does, too.

You know what things my daughter knows that are important? Let me tell you:

She knows she is first and foremost loved. Loved unconditionally. Loved deeply. Loved without question for exactly who she is.

She knows that she is more important, more cherished, and far more valuable than any thing in the world.

She knows she owns her own body. She knows she can say "no" to hugs and kisses. She knows she can say "no" to certain people getting her out of her car seat or touching her or picking her up. She knows that if anyone makes her uncomfortable for any reason it is completely acceptable to not be around them.

She knows her voice will always be heard, especially by her parents. She knows she can object or question anything she doesn't agree with, any request made of her, and we will listen to her. She knows she has a strong voice, and she can use it and assert herself in all situations - to stand up for herself, as well as others.

She knows how to laugh. She knows how to be brave and silly and dance to the music in her heart.

She knows what interests her. She knows her passions and what she enjoys. She knows that those are things she can spend her days doing, and those are the things that will take her places some day.

She knows, oh goodness somehow she knows, that this world is a magical place. That she is a beautiful, magical creature. That she is marvelous and compassionate and hilarious. She knows that it's okay to draw houses with wings and she can play soccer with her hands and make up her own rules to Candy Land.

She knows she is safe. She knows how to stay safe. She knows that the people who love her will keep her safe.

And most importantly, she knows that all of these things are so much more important to know than how to read or multiply or name the planets in the solar system. Those are good things to know at some point, of course, but knowing those things don't make people happy. The smartest kids in school aren't necessarily the happiest. Because knowledge doesn't equal happiness.

So yes, H (and B) know a lot for their ages. But the things that they know that are most important can never be taught with a workbook.

And to me anyway, that's far more important.