mirror image

when i was pretty young (less than 5 i would guess), my family and i were on vacation with my grandparents. mom took me swimming and was helping me float on my back. she wanted to get grandma and grandpa and show them, but i told her no. she kept pushing and i told her that if she made me do it again, i'd puke in the pool. she decided to test me and found grandma and grandpa. cue the puke.

ryan looks exactly like me and even more like my dad. his personality mirrors both of us in ways that are oftentimes spooky. his facial expressions, mannerisms, and the way he says things are very familiar. as it turns out, he also gets a very, very strong stubbornly opinionated streak from us.

ryan loves his crocs. he has mickey crocs, dino crocs (which might actually be dragons), fleecy crocs, and packer crocs. he takes them off and puts on a different pair lots of times during the day. this morning, it was snowy and so i suggested that we perhaps wear his "stomp stomp" shoes (his light-up tennis shoes). i began the conversation before we even put on our clothes (a robot shirt beacuse all the puppy shirts are in the laundry), explaining that it was snowy and i didn't want his piggies to get wet and that i would put his mickey shoes in his bag and he could put the on as soon as we got to daycare. and then i tried to put the shoes on. cue the craziness.

i put his shoes on not once, not twice, but no less than 20 times. he took them off every.single.time, often before i could get both on. he was crying to the point he was coughing and drooling. finally, i managed to get both on, stood him up, put his coat (not fleece, he won't wear the fleece) and hat (not the green hat, god forbid, the superman hat) and ran into the bedroom to grab my phone. by the time i got back, he had removed his tennis shoes, gotten his mickey shoes out of the bag and put them on.

i wasn't expecting a mild-mannered, passive child. neither michael nor i are like that. but i wasn't expecting to see such determination at such a young age. i imagine, someday soon, that he and i will go to blows again. and god only knows who will win the next time. or the next, or the next, or the next.