Mini Me

I got to spend the morning baby-sitting my nephew, D. Of all the kids, D is the one most like me. Funnily enough, because he looks just like my brother did at that age, and my brother is my sibling least like me.

There are moments when I’ll just look down at his little two-year old self and see me so clearly reflected. He has Aunt Julie’s sugar jones (sorry, kid). He has my tendency to pick at something until he has it figured out. We both have storm cloud temperaments – the negative emotions are fast and hard, but the sun comes out pretty quickly again. Bossy, of course ("Clap, Dulie, clap! No, like this!"). And if something isn’t working the way he thinks it should, he’ll just whack on it until it does. Don’t know where on earth the kid got that.

It’s funny to look down and see all the little impulses I’ve been operating with for 40-odd years being acted out by a tiny human being. And, of course those 40 years have given me a perspective on those impulses (if I didn’t at least have some insight by now, I’d be in sorry shape). The temptation is to try to give him a life crib sheet. Do this, look at it this way, go that direction. Give the little guy a leg up on all the stuff I’ve figured out. But you can’t do that. First, half of life’s fun is figuring it out. Can’t rob him of that. Second, I think D is just a little bit smarter than I am. He may get to those answers faster than I did. And come up with some better ones too, if I don’t get in his way.

What I can do for him is empathize. I told my Mom, “Poor, D. Nobody is ever going to understand him the way his Aunt Julie does.” But, really, that’s not such a bad thing. At least one person should be able to see things the way you do. I think I would have liked that when I was growing up.