Shepherd has a very different temperament from me. While there is a stunning resemblance between him and pictures of me in my toddler days, it sometimes seems that the similarities stop there. Now let me be clear: I am completely okay with this. I love that little guy to pieces, and I don't want him to be just like me. I want him to be just like him. But it has still been fun the past month seeing a little of me peeking out in Shepherd. Here are three recent moments when I had to sit back and admit that we might be more alike than I'd realized:
1. I am known for being neurotically careful. It is a trait I inherited quite honestly from my father. My dad puts so much stock in being careful that he would stop at nothing to make sure my brother and I followed suit. For example, when he was teaching us how to drive, he would sit in the passenger's seat telling us stories about wrecks that had happened in whatever location we happen to be driving by. Twisted? Maybe a little. Affective? Absolutely. But that was a tangent. Back to Shepherd. So Shepherd was playing on the wood beams that make our raised garden bed. He was walking very, very slowly and concentrating completely on each move. After making it around a few times, he proudly announced to me, "Look, Mommy. I be careful." That's right. My 2 and a half year old is careful while he plays.
2. I have always warned Shepherd to stay away from very dangerous objects by saying that they could hurt us. What can I say? I've got my Dad's parenting skills. It's never been much of an issue, but now that Shepherd is getting older, he is a little more aware and frightened of pain. While working at the church garden a couple of weeks ago, I warned Shepherd to stay away from the tiller because it could hurt us. Throughout the evening, he pointed at the tiller repeatedly and said, "That can hoot us." I didn't think much of it until a week later when I told Shepherd we were going to work in the church garden, and he immediately said, "The tiller can hoot us." That level of anxiety can only be attributed to my side of the gene pool.
3. And lastly, I'm not just a ball of neurotic anxiety. I'm also really good at positive reinforcement. So the other day, Shepherd asked me for some "swawberwies." I told him I'd be happy to get him some and went to the kitchen to wash and cut them into bite-sized pieces. Shepherd followed me and was watching me when all of the sudden he said, "Good job cuttin' swawberwies, mom." Thank you, son. I do have some superb strawberry-cutting techniques. Since my kids are too young to get me anything for Mother's Day, I'm considering that compliment my Hallmark card.
I won't be posting for a bit because we're heading out of town tomorrow to spend the whole week with Nana and Papa in Alton, Illinois. Shepherd has been talking about it non-stop, although he hasn't yet realized that over 10 hours in the car proceed actually getting to see Nana and Papa. We'll see how that revelation goes tomorrow afternoon.
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