During my run this morning my mind was consumed with my boys, which was great because it took it off of the fact that I was hammering out four miles. While I was pounding out these miles I diligently went over every difference between my two little buggers, and was stunned that there were so many. I remembered my therapist saying to me many moons ago that every child even though they live in the same house, with the same parents they grow up very differently, birth order, personalities, financial status of the household and whole bunch of other crap makes a child who they are.
The biggest bugger is eight, loves to swim, is a self proclaimed animal expert, and truth be told I think he really is, he handed Jungle Jack Hanna his ass, actually stumped the man. In person. For real. It was uncomfortable to say the least! This boy of mine is a rule follower and is afraid to get in trouble. He’s athletic but not aggressive in any sport he plays; he mastered the monkey bars at three, and can squeeze himself into such compromising positions that when he plays man-hunt I get nervous that he’ll never be found. He’s fast too; I’ve never seen a kid run as fast. He’ll tease his brother only if he gets to his breaking point otherwise his patience and tolerance levels are very high. And as much as he loves to play outside, his love for TV, my iPhone/iPad apps, are as passionate as my love for McDonald’s french fries –a little too obsessive.
The little bugger is four and a half, loves to do anything his big brother does so he’ll say he’s an animal expert when in fact, I’m not sure he even likes animals. He’s a natural athlete, not afraid of a darn thing, he took a ball right to the face the other day and walked it off, didn’t shed a tear, continued to play. I think I even embarrassed him when I ran onto the field. Oops. As much as he likes to win, in general he’s happy if he just able to play a sport, any sport even if he invents a sport like Baskethockey. The little bugger is aggressive, follows no rules, he actually makes up his own rules, tells me daily that God is the boss of him, than Pop, than me, and has no problem talking back. He’ll tease and aggravate his brother as if he’s the oldest. TV doesn’t really interest him unless it’s baseball, hockey – well any sport that’s on the boob tube; in the morning he’ll flip to ESPN just to watch the highlights, did I mention that he’s only four and a half?
As I was finishing my run, which ended on a really high note because I realized that deep down to their core my boys are very similar, and it’s these similarities that give me some sort of clue that I’m doing something right – both are sincere, loving, intelligent, caring, sensitive, very compassionate, are the best cuddle bunnies a mom can have and truly love each other to pieces. Time flies when you're taking a trip down "did I raise psychopath" lane, thank goodness I was sweating so much because I started to get teary eyed then I moved into a full blown sob, because really, the fact that my kids really love each other, look after each other, and fart in each other’s faces is so damn cute and actually warms my heart, even when they sneak attack me with a dutch oven!
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