Having little children, it is an adventure to watch them grow up and start to develop their own personalities. Both of my children are completely different. The one thing that they have in common is their love of comic books and the Justice League (my daughter is 4 and my son is 2). They can line up all their action heroes and battle bad guys for hours on end. They sift through comic books, devouring the pictures (bc I won't read them to them--I prefer real books). In those moments, the entire house is quiet. Well, so long as you are far away from whatever room the Justice League is currently battling in.
My oldest has been trying her hand at various group activities. The first one was ice skating. She loved it. Was she any good? Actually, for 3 years-old, she was. She pranced around the ice with her arms outstretched and her hands ready and willing to brace herself if she slipped. She was brave, too--eagerly trying to push her pace and race around the ring. She even insisted on trying little hops and spins. She scared me to death...
A year later, it is soccer...and she is the only girl on the team. I know nothing about soccer, but I do know that it has met it's match when paired with my daughter. She stood out on the field and twirled her fingers around her pigtails--flipping them around and smiling at her coach. She hears one of the little boys ask, "What are these white lines for?" She bats her eyes and replies in her sweetest voice, "They are to keep us in."
Later, the male coach was trying to steal the kids' balls as they traveled from on end of the field to the other. He stops in front of Lucy who has been giggling along, and steals her ball. She freezes, turns her face up to him with eyes that are filled with daggers, and snaps, "Hey!" He smiles, but Lucy is not fazed. She straightens her spine and declares loud enough for me to hear, "I'm a girl."
The coach tilts his head. "You're a girl?" he teases.
Lucy pops a hip out and places one of her hands on it. She juts her chin into the air, cocks her head, and explains with as much attitude as she can muster (but sweeter this time), "Yes. I'm a girl named Lucy." The way she says it makes it seem as if the explanation should have been obvious--as if he should have already known who she was. If nothing else, the knowledge of who she was should have explained everything--most definitely explain why he should not have stopped her ball.
Soccer should be a long and interesting season...
I have two children. I would have thought that one of them would be like me. But they are not. My daughter is bold, sure of herself, full of laughter and life, unafraid of people in the slightest, loves attention, loves to play and run and jump and sing opera. Teddy is my little warrior. He is brave and will climb whatever height he thinks he can reach. He will battle whatever person he deems is a bad guy. He will kick and scream to be allowed to rock out next to his daddy up on stage playing the guitar...
Next year I am sure we will be trying yet another activity. Teddy might take up soccer, Lucy might tap in shiny shoes and the pinkest tutu the world can offer. Who knows where life will lead us--or they will lead us. All I know...is that I sure am happy that these two little wonders are changing who I am. I'll be lucky if I turn out half as cool as they are.