Nothing lets me know, more than being around other little kids, how grown up and mature, for his age, S really is. Not to mention, how independent he is as he grows and how much other kids are wimps.
Like last night when we went to play at McDonald’s. There’s this lady talking to some other parents about her four year old. Well, a little while later someone pushed the kid or something, so he comes running to mommy, crying as though he had gotten his leg cut off or something. My reaction, “That kid is supposed to be four? I’m glad my son doesn’t act like that!”
I’m not really one for empathy if they’re not mine, if you can’t tell.
When S was younger he would have me kiss every boo-boo, and help him with things. He barely talked until he was about two, he still doesn’t talk around strange grown ups, but that’s really because I raised him not to talk to strangers. I live in the state with the highest kidnapping after-all, I don’t need my son getting abducted and sold into the sex trade or sold to some wealthy Mexican that wants a little white kid (personal experience, when I was little a magic show in Mexico wanted to buy me…) He would have O go into the McDonald’s PlayPlace with him and help him get down from high steps, he would get stuck in the PlayPlace and freak out a little and all that. Yeah sure, once upon a time, my little monster was more of a mommy’s boy and needed help with things.
Now he’s a big boy. He doesn’t need me to kiss boo-boos anymore, unless it’s bleeding, but then he just needs a Band-Aid. “Mommy, I’m bleeding, I need a Band-Aid for this cut!” Then he’ll go into the bathroom and get it himself, where he decides if he can do it or if he’s going to bring me the Band-Aid to apply for him. He feeds himself. (Well, he’s done that for a year or two, being able to get himself snacks from the kitchen.) He can even cook himself food in the microwave and make toast with butter. It’s just stuff that he picks up, and normally I wish he would wait and let me do it because once in a while he makes a pretty good mess, but the point is, if I die, he’s not going to. I hate when people try to baby my son. When they try to get things for him, instead of letting him do it on his own. It makes him feel stupid and he doesn’t understand why they won’t let him do it himself. Just bite a hole in the orange peel and he can do the rest! He can make his own hotdog. He can pour his own drinks (as long as it’s not a full gallon of milk, because that equals a mess, haha).
My son is not a baby. Sometimes I forget that, and I still try to treat him like he’s little and needs me for every little thing.
But I’m quickly reprimanded and reminded that he’s a big boy.
After watching other peoples’ kids, that are the same age how do I feel?
I’m super thankful for my mature unschooled 4-year-old.
When kids these days act super young (Like 12 year olds now act like 8 year olds did when I was little), my son is going to be ahead of them all because I don’t give in to this newfangled “treat your teenager like a 2-year-old” bullshit.
And I’m very proud he’s going to be a man and not a mama’s boy.