5 Ways My Children Take After Me (and I wish they didn’t)
I don’t know how it goes in your world but here I’m always hearing how my children are ‘Just Like Daddy’
They’re good at maths ‘Just Like Daddy’
If they look at a calculator they’ll be accountants ‘Just Like Daddy’
If they do a Parkrun they’re ‘Just Like Daddy’
Though to be fair, if you see me running you KNOW something is going horribly wrong with life.
I’m not annoyed by the comparison, though I’d like them to believe they are individuals not clones.
However I am slightly miffed that no one EVER makes the mum comparisons.
No one ever says
You tell a great story, just like mummy.
You draw a wonderful pictures, just like mummy.
You have a big imagination, just like mummy.
Maybe it’s because these qualities are seen as less ‘important’ than scientific or physical things.
Maybe it is considered that Daddy has such a fragile ego it needs massaging at every opportunity (he doesn’t)
All of that is a whole other blog post waiting to happen.
So, while I let that post manifest in my brain, let’s take a look at the ways my children are just like me!
Firstly, I may have just invented a word.
Secondly, both of my children are bad losers. I like to say it’s a Rory thing but it isn’t, it’s all me (do NOT tell him).
I hate to lose.
Team sports infuriate me,
NO YOU’RE NOT TAKING MY BALL
Yes – I KNOW they’re the rules but I don’t have to like them.
We are at the age where EVERYTHING in our house is a competition from who gets to our bed first in the morning to who reaches the front door first after school.
The ‘winner’ of the ‘competition’ will put their smug face on and do a little brag.
The loser invariably whinges until I can bear it no more and declare that everyone is actually a winner which is NOT really what I want to teach them.
I want my children to learn that both winning and losing are OK – I just want them to learn it in a less whingey way and maybe on someone else’s watch.
Some people say Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit, I say Mrs Brown’s Boys is the lowest form of wit.
I am sarcastic because it makes me laugh and one of my top five goals in life is to keep amusing myself.
I used to complain that my quips were wasted on the children but now they’re of an age and astute enough to retort with sarcasm.
Whilst part of me is super proud that I’m bringing up children with an amazing knack for witty retort – I must confess sometimes they deal me a solid burn and I feel defeated.
Just to note, we may be sarcastic but we’re never mean.
Sense of Humour
I am funny, like REALLY funny.
Though I will confess to not being particularly funny of late because I’ve had a real life job and it turns out that hanging out in the real life scuppers all humour and creativity.
I hear you cry
You were never funny!
My children seem to believe that because I am hilarious, they too are funny.
And they are. Mostly.
The only problem is, once they raise a laugh they don’t let it evolve.
They just smash out the same joke repeatedly and, well, everyone gets bored of that VERY quickly.
Saying that, I’m glad we’ve moved past Aoife’s ‘literal comedy’ phase.
Mummy, what do you call a fish with teeth? A shark.
Do you get it Mummy? It’s funny because a shark has teeth…
Sense of Justice
My children, like me, have a very strong idea of what is fair and what is not.
Unfortunately whereas my sense of justice extends to people outside of my immediate eye line and considers the thoughts and feelings of others. Theirs lies firmly at home.
They consider any decision that doesn’t go in their favour, conform to their ideas of what should be occurring or result in them getting something tasty, as grossly unfair.
Being told off for being naughty is unfair, one not being invited to a party the other is invited to is unfair. One having a blue cup while the other has a green cup is unfair.
In fact, now I think about it they actually have a very strong idea of what is unfair – apparently nothing is fair.
Oh the woe.
Is apparently not a virtue!
I completely and utterly blame the age of instant gratification for my impatience. I used to be OK but now, if I’ve ordered my shopping to come between 10-11 am, I start getting tetchy if the van hasn’t pulled on to the street by 9.58 am.
Lateness is probably the worst human trait in my opinion. I like to know what I’m doing and when. As a former Girl Scout, I like to be prepared.
Luckily as an adult, I can reign my impatience in. My children, on the other hand, can’t.
When something is happening at 1:30 Seth will ask the time at regular intervals from the minute his eyes open, alas he has no concept of time.
If we decide to take a day trip they just HAVE to know where we are going, they can’t wait and see and they hurl a barrage of questions – God forbid they wait a whole 30 minutes until we get there.
When they ask me to do something and I say “wait a minute”, they tut and moan like I asked them to hand over a kidney!
Now I put it out there in black and white, I wonder if maybe the ways the kids take after me aren’t quite the pleasant characteristics I was hoping to dig out after all…
They both have huge hearts though, and as we all know Rory is a Tin Man, they must definitely get that from me right?
Check out these cool cats for their take on this subject…
Twins, Tantrums and Cold Coffee
You’re right – Mrs Brown’s Boys is most definitely the lowest form of wit. And for the record, I think you’re hilarious – so your kids are lucky indeed to inherit your sense of humour…maybe future bloggers in the making?! Great post and thanks for linking me up.