This is my parent’s faultPublished 2:35pm Friday, January 25, 2013
There were many aspects of parenthood that appeared overwhelming when my wife was pregnant. Now my son Miles is 15 months old and one of my biggest fears has begun to become my reality. My son is beginning to act like me.
Miles is hard headed, cuter, keener and more manipulative that I can ever remember being. I blame my parents for this.
I cannot tell you how many times my parents cursed me as a child and young adult. If I had a nickel for each time they “hope I have a child just like me” I would have tens upon tens of dollars.
I am convinced that each time they wished me upon me the curse became worse because I can already see that life with Miles has just begun to get interesting.
First off the boy has no fear… none! Dawn and I took him to the ocean a few months back. I was excited to see his face, to capture what would surely be his awe at such an overwhelming sight. Instead of awe and overwhelming reality, the Atlantic Ocean was greeted by my son with a giggle, a devilish grin and a mad dash to test its depths.
It was the biggest thing my son had ever seen and he did not hesitate before running full speed towards it. That cannot be normal.
I am fairly certain that he is half German, half Jewish, half Ninja and I that I am bad at fractions. His belief that nothing is too fast, too strong or too big to be overtaken by himself is reflective of his mother’s and paternal grandmother’s German roots.
His ability to make you feel guilty after fussing at him for going into the living room, grabbing the remote, turning the volume all the way up and running away from you could only have come from my father’s side of the family. Miles will know he was in the wrong, but still try to make you feel guilty for mentioning it. Nobody did guilt like the women from my father’s side of the family. It may sound stereotypical, but that doesn’t make it any less true.
His ninja side became evident when he got past me in the first place. I was watching him like a hawk, trying to avoid putting the baby gate up when he recognized my pattern, waited for me to check on the score in the other room and stealthily made his way behind and past me to gain access to the remote. He dropped a smoke pellet, took out the cat with a flying star and rappelled to sanctuary.
Okay that might be an exaggeration, but by the time I recognized my containment plan had been thwarted, Miles had already gotten past me, secured the remote, set the volume to unparalled levels and was making his escape.
It would all be impressive if it was somebody else’s kid or maybe if he wasn’t so hard headed. Much of this can be attributed to the curse, however truth dictates that I confess he came by most of it naturally. His mother and all of his uncles are very hard headed…very, very hard headed. Me, you ask? No, I am not hard headed in the least, but boy oh boy the rest of his family sure is.
When Miles decides he wants to do something he is determined to do it regardless of consequence. He appears convinced that even if someone catches his Ninja hind parts being naughty that they will be unable to punish him after he looks at them lovingly and offers up his super charming smile.
It is these times when I am the most grateful I did not have a girl. Miles is charming and very difficult to punish when he chooses to use it. Had he been a she, she would have been my princess and never been punished…for anything…ever
Instead, Miles is punished coldly and then when he isn’t looking I allow my face to reflect the breaking heart I feel each time his lip quivers. I might be a sucker, but I try to ensure he doesn’t find that out
Still, at the end of the day, I am a sucker, totally head over heels for a 2ft 8inch, fearless and adorable ninja with whom I have very little control. This is totally my parents fault!
David Friedman is a long-time contributor to Roanoke-Chowan Publications. A Bertie High School graduate, he and his wife currently reside in Wilmington. David can be reached via e-mail at firstname.lastname@example.org.