When I had my son ten years ago, I was young and optimistic about knowing exactly how I wanted to raise him. Ten years have gone by like a cool breeze on a hot day and I can honestly say that he has been a fairly easy kid. As a baby he ate well, slept through the night and barely made one sound of discontent. I probably could have left him alone for half the day and he would have cheerily played with his toys without bothering one precious item in any room. Now, he’s well mannered, kind, intelligent, funny and very easygoing. Pride is bursting out of me for the boy he has turned out to be. I can only hope that his teenage years will be tolerable as I always expect the worst since kids pull so far away from their parents during that time.
However, three years ago, I had a beautiful baby girl. Little did I know that my first hint at her indignance was a hospital photo holding up her hand and distinctly giving the camera the finger. Yes, the middle one…for all the world to see. To this day, I regret not getting that one printed for proof that she began her life as a rebel. While she was also a fairly easy baby, it was clear to see she was going to be a handful very quickly. She more often squeaked than cried, earning herself the name “Baby Bird”. Also proven by the way she opened her mouth and waited for someone to put food in it when hungry. Once mobile, she was ready to cause maximum damage. If I would leave the room for mere seconds, I could hear giggles and the pitter patter of her running feet, as I dashed back in to find that she had turned off my laptop. The laptop that I used for my job which I then learned to save everything after any update.
As she learned to speak, it was evident that her nickname was once again proven when she parroted everything said within a four room radius. And now at three, I’ve dubbed her the “swearing police”, scolding us when someone says anything she finds offensive, such as “stupid”. Let’s just say my choice of words of frustration has been cut off at the knees. With a full vocabulary and excellent speech, she suddenly sounds like a teenager with the comebacks that come out of her mouth. I’m amazed at her ability to neck roll an insult back at a parent with breakneck speed.
I’m not saying all girls and boys are the same. I’m not even going to say any girls are the same as mine. What I will say is that my guess is, there are quite a few girls out there giving their parents a run for their money. And as teenagers, we may want to consider locking them in a tower until the age of thirty. All I know is my parents must have been out of their minds…they had four girls.
My Life Write 