Saturday, March 27, 2010
I'm in the habit lately of dressing like Sam, or, dressing Sam like me. It's completely subconscious. I only realize I've done so later in the day, when I'm running an errand with him on my hip, and suddenly become aware that we're both in brown corduroys and blue shirts. It's embarrassing. I feel like an overzealous mom trying to morph this little being into a mini version of myself.
I'm not! I swear! Sam, who's almost two years old, may have some personality traits frighteningly similar to my own. We both love to run (the dude is non-stop). We both want to be outside all the time. And we both get really bummed out when we reach the bottom of a bowl of ice cream.
But we have some differences, too. And I'm really happy about that.
I'm learning all about things I never would have, had I not had a Sam. I now know what a backhoe loader is, and how it's different from a regular backhoe. And I now know just how different a triceratops is from a diplodocus.
I'm sure I'll learn more about these things as my son grows older. We'll have full discussions about which dinosaur is the biggest and what trucks are the coolest.
What's funny is that my husband knows all about these things, and I never knew that before. It's not like you meet, date, get married and whatnot and often talk about trucks and dinosaurs. But raising a son together, I realize that my husband was once a little boy fascinated by these things, too.
Seems I'm learning about two new people at once these days: Sam, and my husband as a little boy just like Sam. I don't think Sam is just like his father (his dad is rather impartial to ice cream), nor is he just like me. He's this new little person who we're both having fun getting to know. And I'm going to do my best to dress him like Sam, not a mini me or mini Mark.