My daughter, myself
For a decade, give or take ten minutes, I tried to mold my twin boys into my image. They have resisted all efforts and insist on being their own unique selves. I thought I had simply failed to try hard enough, that I did not repeat myself enough, or reinforce positive behaviors enough.
And along came my daughter.
By now, I realize that children come half-baked (ha ha, I just came up with that), already formed. They aren’t really like lumps of clay, eager to be molded as much as they are Chia Pets upon which grass seed may or may not grow. (The metaphors! I need to go to sleep!)
But my daughter. I want to tell you that I recognize myself in her. She has spent an inordinate amount of time penciling numbers (up to 102) and letters on notebook paper, all within the lines. I suggested, “You could do that later,” and she said, “No, I need to do my work first.” (My sons still cannot write in the lines of notebook paper, much to my chagrin.)
She loves to run, run, run. Playing tag is her favorite game. When I was in first grade, I loved to (literally) chase boys at recess. I was the fastest girl in my elementary school. I loved to run.
Now, maybe you just see the portions of yourself that you want to see in your child. Maybe. My husband thinks she is just like me–and he says that when she’s being particularly sassy. I AM NOT LIKE THAT! (Okay, maybe a little.) She amuses me.
That’s all.
As scary as it seems to me now, I do hope my little girl is like me at least a little!
Steph
I totally understand! When Katie and I clash, Steve comments, “Of course you clash… you’re the same person.”
It’s scary, but it’s true. And I love every minute of it.
My son is a mini-me. And it really makes me nuts. I know I’m getting a full dose of payback for being just like him when I was his age. I’ve passed the curse along, though.
My daughter and I are complete opposites.
Even Meyer/Briggs would agree. I am an INTJ all the way, and she? An ESFP.
I’d like to think that when we are together, we make a complete person.
We do get along, especially now that I am 50, and she is 25.
It’s sweet that she does those things that remind you so much of your own self
I totally see me in my daughter – the good and at times, the bad. I am thankful to have at least one person in my house that can identify with me, however.