I said “I don’t want my kids to be like me” this morning to my husband, and I meant it. Many people want their kids to be a ‘chip off the ole block’ or to have their children ‘follow in their footsteps,’ but not me.
I was a quiet, lonely, depressed child who never took risks. I sat on the sidelines and watched the world go by. And then I started taking risks but all the bad kinds.
My middle daughter is the most similar to me so I’ve been very careful in how I handle her. So, today, when she wore a skirt and top that was attention-getting (not in a Miley way), I said nothing. I didn’t tell her that she looked pretty, or that she had great taste. She is the type of person who, like me, doesn’t want attention, so to put herself out there and wear something far riskier than she’s ever worn before, is a milestone.
If I had said anything, she may have bolted back upstairs and changed into the uniform of the wallflower: jeans, Converse, and a floral (of course), flouncy shirt.
It’s a moment to savor, almost as important as her first word, or her first step because it means that I will get my wish and she will not be like me.