Like Mother, Like Son

That just doesn’t sound right. It doesn’t flow off the tongue as smoothly as the old adage, “Like father, like son”, but alas my sweet boy is growing up to be more like his mother everyday. I’m not too terribly happy about this especially considering the fact that he’s really only picking up on my bad habits and traits. I was hoping he would avoid this side of me.

I’ve said this before, I’m not a patient person. Shortly after Davey was born I started to think I was turning the corner, that perhaps this patience virtue that had avoided me for nearly my entire life had finally come home to nest within my personality. I found that I could be patient with him, that I could guide him, teach him, encourage him and do it without a single point raise in blood pressure. I was actually doing quite well with it until the Terrible Twos hit BEFORE he was actually two.

Lately, I’ve noticed a lot of behavior in Davey that really seems to mirror my own behavior, or at least the behavior I know I had when I was a child. Davey is very competitive and in a lot of cases eager to please. He wants to win the races. He wants to beat the timer. He wants to answer the questions correctly, but when he doesn’t he seems to throw a bit of a tantrum. And unfortunately, when he doesn’t do what I want him to do, I’ve noticed that my patience seems to hit a boiling point with me. I’m quick to try not to let him see this behavior in me, but I know I’ve slipped.

I try to not let him have my iPad, but instead encourage him to play with traditional toys. He he only gets my iPad when I’m nursing Henry and need some quiet time, but that time doesn’t really seem to be quite so quiet.

He has a few apps he enjoys playing, one of which is to put together a puzzle while trying to beat the timer. If he can’t do it, then he hits the iPad and starts screaming. I’ve been told this is a normal reaction, but I’m not so happy with it especially since it seems to be a part of my worse side. When he plays basketball, if he doesn’t make the basket, then he stomps his feet and screams at the goal. If he’s playing with his trains and one goes off the track, then he has on occasion picked it up and thrown it. This whole behavior is not something I was hoping to see in my little boy.

If he’s losing a game, then he screams and knocks the pieces off the board. If he can’t get a puzzle piece to fit, then he starts screaming and crying before tearing apart whatever part of the puzzle he’s already completed. This is all me, or at least it was me, or maybe it still is me. Yikes!

I try to reason with him, but it’s like trying to reason with a terrorist…you can’t, which only makes my patience run low and I have to find a way to contain my screams! I’m sure I’ve let a scream or two slip with Davey especially when he’s doing something I don’t want him to do. I’ve gotten better at really taking a step back and counting to 10, but truthfully I feel Davey’s pain. It just feels so much better to let it all out.

I guess I should try to find other ways for he and I to both express ourselves and our frustrations. I don’t want people to avoid him because they fear he’s too emotional and flies into a rage (which has happened to me in my adult life, but in my defense I was in my final month of pregnancy with him during a very hot and humid summer down South). Is this just a phase or something much more deep seeded? I’m going to go with Option A and think positively that he will grow out this horrible trait I have. And hopefully, he’ll do it soon because there’s really only one room for a Drama Queen in this family…and I’ve owned that crown for much too long.

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