Mini-Me

My one-year-old son is still too young to peg as favoring me or my husband, personality wise. But it’s safe to say my 3-and-a-half year old daughter, Lucy, is taking after me in the charm department.

The poor girl has inherited my temper. Either that or I have the short fuse of a toddler demanding to get her way, so naturally I prefer the first theory. Yet neither option is all that pretty. I have to say that her Incredible Hulk-style episodes really are few and far between and are fleeting moments in the grand scheme of her happy life so far. But when these moments flare up, they have a way of putting a fine point on my own personality flaws.

To say that Lucy acts like me is to take some of the blame when she gets mad at her ice cream bowl for being empty and chucks it to the ground. Saying we are alike is to acknowledge that yes, there is a part of me that would also like to zing a superbounce ball across the living room when I don’t get my way (although she did that when she was told it was nap time; if someone told me to take a nap, I wouldn’t throw a ball at his or her head – I’d kiss them).

And it is quite possible that much of her behavior is learned, such as the junior road rage skills she’s honing after riding home with me along that busy stretch of York Road between Shawan and Ashland roads. I’m fairly certain that she has picked up on my daily frustration when it comes to having to get into the left turn lane somewhere around the Exxon station, about a half-mile from where we actually need to turn, in order to avoid being shut out of the lane altogether. I’m thankful that the only shouted phrase she’s picked up on and has repeated unbidden is the decidedly mile epithet, “They have to schooch it!” regarding the other cars that refuse to get out of our way.

The current in the gene pool can be swift and strong, just like the roiling emotions that can cause a grown woman, or her little girl, to kick and scream and throw a fit about whatever it is that has gone wrong. But I also need to remember that genetics may be the thing that makes this little girl a natural when it comes to rewriting song lyrics on the spot, Weird Al style, to humorous effect. It may also be the thing that  makes this 3-year-old already adept at constructing analogies. (Maybe her dad gets the credit for that one.) Furthermore, another inherited behavior may be her overflowing love for her baby brother. She hugs him a little too hard once in a while, and has coined a thousand weird little nicknames for him. So our being alike isn’t all bad news for her.