Hot house pressure

Every murmur heard in the toddler group
a whispering mob of swanking mothers
My baby’s so lively, so bright, so good
he was the first to walk
she is the first to talk
A veritable posse of prodigies
roughly reproduced regionally
at every NCT assembly.

One wise mother sits alone
Knowing how vain it is to drone
At length on her infants prowess
Let the little fella’s cleverness
Evolve in its own time
He’ll prove it in his prime.
Whilst she watches other kids
Name capitals and cities
Sing complicated ditties
Robbed of their childhood
Woefully made to brood
on their exalted genetic legacy
which stems from dull parental supremacy.
She realises his handicap
Has freed him from all that
Boasting in the creche’s foyer