I’ve been told that I can be a little too competitive.

I’ve never believed it.

I’ve always just thought if there’s a score, mine might as well be the best. If there’s a prize, I might as well be the one to get it. If there’s a winner — you guessed it — it might as well be me.

On Saturday, I was forced to come face to face with reality.

My name is Andy, and I am overly competitive.

This past weekend, my wife and I attended a class about newborns for soon-to-be parents. In June, if all goes as expected, we will be adopting a baby girl.

If you’ve never been to one of these classes it’s kind of the equivalent of “Babies for Dummies.”

So, it was pretty much perfect for me.

As adoptive parents we — thankfully — were able to skip the video on the “beauty and wonder of birth.” How the other couples ate while they watched that video is the true wonder.

I saw one of those videos once while I was in high school, and I still haven’t fully recovered.

With the lessons on the actual birth out of the way, the second half of the class focused on what we could expect at the hospital in the minutes, hours and days after the delivery, and how not to damage our child once they turn us loose with her.

The nurse teaching the class explained that in the first few minutes after birth our baby will be given an Apgar score. For those of you, like me, that have never heard of this, it’s an assessment of how a baby is doing at birth and helps determine whether the baby is ready to meet the world without additional medical assistance.

The test measures appearance, pulse, grimace, activity and respiration.

There are a possible two points in each category. A 10 is perfect score.

The nurse told everyone in the class not to expect a 10. I glanced around the room and saw everyone nodding in agreement.

I sat quietly, but inside I was screaming, “My baby will get a 10.”

As soon as we made it out of the hospital, I told Jennifer our baby would score a 10.

She looked at me with a look that could only mean she thought I was crazy.

As a nurse, she sided with the teacher, and told me that a score of 10 almost never happened. How could I be sure our baby would get a 10?

I told her she would obviously get a 10 because if there’s a score, we’re going to get the highest score possible. It’s what we do after all.

When she scores a 10, I’ll probably walk down to the office of the lady who taught the class and let her know we got the ever-elusive 10. I’ll be nice of course.

I may even see if there’s a piece of paper we can frame and display, so everyone can see how well our baby did during birth.

I’ll be that parent comparing Apgar scores with all the other parents on the maternity ward.

“So, how’d your baby score? Oh, he got an eight? That’s good. Our daughter got a 10. She’s just a natural winner.”

I’ll try not to rub it in — much.

My wife will be so proud.

My name is Andy, and I am overly competitive.