THEY SAY NO two children are alike even if they are raised in the same home and have the same biological parents. However, I think my two children have taken their differences to the extreme. While I support my children’s individualism, I often think they choose to be different just to drive me insane.
The most obvious difference, and one that I am thankful for, is that one is a boy and one is a girl. They both pretty much fall into the typical stereotype of the sexes (she loves princesses and dressing up, he loves skateboarding and breaking things, and those I can live with. Girls will be girls and boys will be boys pretty much rings true in our household.
Then the differences start to get downright annoying, particularly when it comes to mealtime:
She eats Fuji apples, he eats Granny Smith.
She eats Jif peanut butter, he eats all natural peanut butter (the kind you have to stir).
She loves cheese but hates pizza, he hates cheese but loves pizza.
She likes strawberry milk, he likes chocolate.
She like vanilla ice cream, he likes chocolate.
She likes pasta with sauce, he likes it plain.
She hates chicken (she claims she doesn’t want to “kill chicks”), he eats it right up with a smile on his face.
You get the picture of how meal times work at my house. People tell me (particularly those from the “elder” generation who no longer have 5- and 7-year olds whining at their dinner tables) I should just make one meal and the kids will eat when they are hungry. Sometimes I do that, but only on nights when I make hamburgers, the one meal that everyone will eat …. of course, hers has to be a cheeseburger.
If it was just mealtimes, maybe I could deal with all the individuality. But, the differences don’t end in the kitchen. Welcome to my bathroom:
He likes minty toothpaste, she only likes Tom’s of Main strawberry.
He like to take a bath, she likes to shower.
He pees standing up, she pees sitting down (OK, I guess that is normal … but the real difference is that I have to clean up after one and not the other).
He never washes his hands, she washes so often her hands are chapped.
And then there are just the random differences:
She likes kisses, he likes hugs.
She like the pool, he likes the beach.
She likes books, he likes the movies.
She is always cold, he is always hot.
I could go on but I think you get the point. They have been this way since birth and I don’t think things will change anytime soon, and I just don’t have the energy to fight over which meal or toothpaste will win each day. So, I just try to embrace their differences in the hopes that they might think that their “quirky” differences don’t bother me and they might find another set of battles to fight. The jury is still out as to whether or not my admittedly amateur psychological warfare will work, but if it does I may actually only have to go apple picking once a year because, after all, Fuji apples and Granny Smith apples are not ripe at the same time of year.