How Far Does The Apple Fall?
by Risa Green
Remember when your parents used to say things to you like, someday, I hope you have a child that’s exactly like you? Well, I did. And one of the most difficult things about parenthood, for me, is having to put up with my own worst qualities on a daily basis. My son, while a sweet, warm, wonderful kid, somehow managed to inherit every single quality of mine that I have always regretted having. He’s overly cautious. He’s a homebody. He’s a stickler for routine, and uncomfortable in new situations. He doesn’t deal well with change. Fun stuff, especially in a four year-old.
I have often said that if I weren’t married to my husband, I would probably never leave the house. My husband is the one who keeps our social calendar, who makes plans with other couples, who chats on the phone with my girlfriends. If not for him, I would be a total hermit. It’s not that I don’t like going out – once I actually get somewhere, I tend to have fun – it’s just that it’s easier to stay home, and besides, I like being home. Which is okay, I think, for an adult. Because as an adult, I intellectually understand that I am just being lazy, and that if my husband is willing to make the plans, then I am willing to go along with them. But in a four year-old, this quality is not wonderful. In a four year-old, this is what happens when you try to go somewhere:
Me: Why don’t we get out of here and go somewhere? We could go to the zoo, or to the Natural History Museum, or the park…
My daughter: Yeah! I want to go to the zoo!
My son (not even looking up from playing with his Power Rangers): Nah.
Me: Come on, you can play with those any time. Let’s go somewhere.
My son: No, fank you. I just want to stay home.
It’s hard, because as a parent, I know that I should make him go out and do things. But as a person with similar inclinations, I totally get it.