Parenting Myself

There isn't anything more humbling than parenting a small, testotrone-filled version of myself.  I am constantly reminded that this would be me, had I been a boy:

My first-born, ladies and gentlemen.  Your future President of something.

Remember that old cartoon, Pinky and the Brain? 

"What are we going to do today, Brain?"

"The same thing we do every day, Pinky.  Try to take over the world."

I'm convinced that he spends his free time dreaming up ways to take over this house, his siblings, and the world.  Put me in charge!  I could do this so much better!

He has so many great qualities - his lack of fear, his decisiveness and quick observations, his (sigh) excellent verbal skills. He is just so challenging to parent.  Always has been. 

So my most recent way of dealing with him is thinking to myself, "What would work for ME if I was in his shoes right now?"  Seems ridiculous, but it's actually helpful.  The first response is usually, "Let him cool down alone for a minute."  We passionate people normally act first, think later.  It's a curse.

And my husband, my dear soulmate, just stands back and smiles.  His most recent brilliant comment?

"They are my children when they are asleep.  They are your children when they are awake."

Hilarious.

Good thing he's so cute.