Mini-Me... At My Worst

There's a boy who lives at my house.

He's smart, sweet, loving, cute, and pretty darn funny.

I won't start this post with the argument over who he looks like.

It is a RAGING debate.

I'll let you come to that conclusion on your own.

But... I will inform you that he ACTS like his daddy most of the time. Even has some of the same mannerisms and facial expressions. Kinda spooky.

I can also say that when he is at his goofiest, I see myself.

I can also tell you that it is most uncomfortable when you see yourself in your child's "not so nice" moments.

Like this morning.

School was delayed 2 hours due to the threat of snow. (Gotta love the South.) It actually worked out nicely because 2 people who shall not be named stayed up WAY too late watching Alabama win the National Championship. (Roll Tide.) So sleeping in (somewhat) was helpful.

Just as we were about to head out the door at 10:00 AM, the boy asks me to check a paragraph he'd written for Math. I read it, and I suggested he make a correction.

Mistake #1. (Mine.)

The correction was a verb tense. I knew what it was supposed to be, and I even explained the grammar rule behind it. But he wasn't buying it. Apparently, I know nothing.

There's nothing like a roaring argument with a 10 year old to start your day. Your "Slept-In-Late-Cause-It-Was-Supposed-To-Snow-But-It-Didn't-Favorite-Team-Won" Day.

Good times.

After a few long tension-filled moments and a heated discussion, he relented.

He stomped toward the door and yelled, "You're right!"

I put my hand out to stop him and calmly (lie) asked, "Are you just saying that to end this argument or because you understand the correction I made?"

With an evil little smirk, he looks at me, and says, "Both."

Did you see me? There I was... in little boy form...

1. CONVINCED that I was right

and...

2. avoiding confrontation

and...

3. being a smarty-pants about the whole thing

He should have just held up a mirror.

It's pretty hard to get angry at a small version of yourself that you created, both genetically and by modeling your "not so nice" behavior.

In all fairness, his dad would say that half of the nasty genes came from him as well. I've heard plenty of stories about how no one could tell "little Danny" how to do something... especially having to do with sports... He already knew everything.

I think children are God's way of showing us things about ourselves that we would never understand or change otherwise.

I just hold out for the moments when the nice things come out. When he says or does something that I know came from me, and I am actually proud of it.

PS... I think school starts so dang early just so we won't have time to dislike our kids before they leave for the day.