As a parent I was prepared for the moment when I would suddenly realize I was challenged by a smaller version of myself. I was also ready, at least in theory, for the moment that I would be flabbergasted by one of my children doing exactly what one of my parents would have done. What I was not entirely expecting was that I would be raising small versions of my grandparents.
My grandparents, both sets of them, had their good points and their bad points. Their marriages were much the same way. For all of the good things they did as couples, like staying married until death did them part, communication was not the forte of either couple. Frequently they did things like argue over the difference between 50/50 and half and half. In their defense they never read anything like the Five Love Languages, but I doubt that would have made much of a difference in their verbal communication anyway.
This past weekend I was driving the van with all three kids. The five-year-old zoologist and the three-year-old ballerina buckled themselves into their seats in the back of the van while I put the one-year-old demolitions expert in her seat. Before pulling out of the driveway I told my son to straighten the twisted strap on his car seat. Which led to this exchange.
Ballerina: Are my straps fine?
Zoologist: Who says I’m lyin’?
An exchange like this happens a few times a week between those two. It was then and there that it hit me that I am raising two small versions of my grandparents. God help me.