Keeping up with the...who again?

Why is it that I feel the sudden urge to brag to Grace's pediatrician every time we go in? Not only about her but about myself? I am of course up on her developmental milestones, since I am an SLP...therefore, when he told me "she's doing everything we want her to be doing", I was underwhelmed to say the least. Of course my daughter is pulling to stand, and her receptive language is kicking in (in Spanish), of course. She is not saying words yet, but - come on! She is only 10 months after all. And what most people call first words are really babbling. She is able to follow basic one-step directions with a variety of words and is showing excellent social referencing. And even though she doesn't have any actual words, she sure is communicating with her hands and face. She lets us know when she has to go to the bathroom, when she is hungry, when she is sleepy, etc. Oh, and did I mention that she has a grasp of the concepts of happy and sad? Not to mention the fact that over 95% of the time, she is a happy, sociable, fun baby! So, could I just be happy that she is off the charts a wonderful daughter? No, I need the pediatrician to be impressed as well. And, while he's a nice enough fellow, he definitely did not display the amazement that anyone in their right mind should display when in the presence of such a baby Einstein (is that trademarked? oops)! So, when he told me that she was right where she needs to be, with the exception of her gargantuan head (97th percentile, while height and weight are definitely nowhere near that), I showed him by simply nodding my head and trying to get Grace to show off. Kids are so modest at this age, so naturally, she did not show him many of her skills.

So, why did I feel the need to impress this unimpressive pediatrician? What hormone courses through a mother's veins that makes them feel this constant urge to show up everyone around them? And why, even though I know it makes me look ridiculous, can't I stop? Is it preparation for the later years when I will embarrass her by wearing the mom jeans and spitting onto my finger to wipe eye gunk out of her eyes, while yelling "I love you" at the top of my lungs? Is it some darwinian leftover skill from when only the best made it past toddlerhood? Is it simply the parental version of keeping up with the Jones'? Whatever it is, I left the office feeling kind of foolish for having had such strong feelings...