Oh the differences

"No. no. no. no. no mommy, I do it." Owen says as he grips, white knuckled, his shirt and shorts. It doesn't matter that we are in a hurry. It doesn't matter that he has his left are up through the head hole. It doesn't matter that he refuses to have me reach for his shirt let alone touch it. And God forbid that I lay out his shirt for him on THE FLOOR. THE DIRTY FLOOR. Yes, I have an almost four year old who has decided that he has just recently learned to pee standing up that, indeed, he is in no need of MY help.

Sigh.

It

makes getting places difficult. It makes getting ready in the morning and night that much longer. And what do I do? What MUST I do? Stand aside and wait.

Drew wasn't this way. Oh no, he was easy as pie. In fact, we had to encourage him to get dressed on his own. I think he would have happily let us dress him until he was 42. But not Owen, oh no...

And I love it. I love the differences. It gives me reason to have the conversation with Drew about fair and how fair doesn't look the same because people aren't the same. I get to chuckle at Owen as I see the other traits of me that Drew doesn't possess emerge. It makes me shake my head, hang my head, and look to the heavens and ask, "Seriously?"

But this same boy who is screaming that he "don't like you, MOMMY!" and "NO! I. DO. IT!" is the same boy who giggles with me, snuggles into my neck, and clasps my hand harder than Drew ever did - not because he needs me, but because he knows I need him. And in the car coming home tonight he said, "I love EVERYONE!"

And he does :).