Imitation

They say imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.  If that’s the case, then consider me flattered to have a 20 month old daughter who tries to mirror my every move.  It’s not just me, of course.  She’s learning from everyone she spends a lot of time with, including her older brother.  One habit of hers, in fact, is to sidle up to an open toilet, lift her shirt, and lean her hips forward.  This one first perplexed me, then horrified me, and now I just find it downright amusing.  Let’s face it – if I took myself too seriously as a parent to find that funny, I’d be in for a long road. 

There are times when I don’t realize something may actually be a habit of mine until I see her doing it and momentarily pause to wonder where she got it.  A few nights ago I observed her searching her room for her sippy cup.  She put her finger to her lips and lightly tapped as she said, “hmmmmmm.”  Hmmm, indeed, I thought, as I caught myself doing the very same thing the next day. 

Of course there are some moments when we see our children imitating us that are less than flattering.  Earlier this week I overheard my son in the next room admonishing his sister by using her first, middle, and last name, and then explaining in a very “parent-y” tone that we do not climb on the furniture.  It was parent-y and a bit mocking at the same time, as if he was simultaneously putting his sister in her place and me in mine.  Well played.

Because I’m a mom and I can’t stop my brain from thinking ten steps down the road, I naturally start to worry about the example I’m setting since they are clearly watching me.  But when that thought creeps in, I am choosing instead to embrace it.  Think of the power we have to shape these littles into people who actively love life, follow their curiosity, and feel good in their own skin.  If I nudge myself forward in setting that example for them, it helps me be more true to myself as well – win win. 

Regular dance parties are mandatory in this quest.  I’m not talking about turning on the radio in the background for the kids while I put away the dishes.  I mean crank up the Disney, grab their sticky little hands, and fly around the living room like your list of cares is as short as theirs.  When Elsa starts to sing, you better believe we LET IT GO.

Playing in the rain also helps.  Last night when we came home from an ice cream run, it was dark and damp and there were worms crawling all over the driveway.  The kids stood just inside the garage door, and I could tell from the way they were looking at those worms that they were feeling a mix of curiosity, intrigue, and uncertainty.  I realized in that moment that their reaction would likely be influenced by my own.  If I instinctively lingered back, saying, “eewww, worms!”, they may assume they were something to be feared (or at the very least, avoided).  I instead made a conscious decision to step out on the driveway, crouch down, and redirect the worms that were heading for the garage door in order to save them from a crushing fate.  As I lingered there, bent over in the light drizzle of rain that continued to fall, I looked over my shoulder to find my children emerging from the shadows to stand by my side.    

There are absolutely bigger and more vital things we can do knowing that the little ones are watching.  Being kind and patient, serving, and sharing with others are important examples as we face the enormously ridiculous task of shaping human beings.  However, I will always be a sucker for the small moments, and I believe there is great power in the lessons they can teach.  The way we respond to situations becomes a habit, and whether it’s the decision to splash in a puddle, try a new sport, or choose a career path, I want my kids to jump in.  Always.  Because it’s fun, because it’s life, and who cares if you get a little dirty.

Some day when my kids are grown and someone asks them what their mom is like, I would find no greater joy than to have them light up and say, “She dances like a crazy person and plays with worms.”  I take that back – my greatest joy will be when they find what makes them dance.