I have a theory. You become the opposite of what you were as a babe. You end up on the other side of the fence.
My oldest son, Mark, was the snuggliest little love bug as a baby. When he was 5 months old he kissed me so much one day that my chin got chapped. Now he is the one who wants a hug and then it's over and he needs his personal space. He doesn't want anyone sitting close enough to touch him. My youngest, Phil, on the other hand, resisted cuddling as a babe. He would firmly place both hands on my chest and with stiff arms, he would push away. He now loves being close and being touched, needs lots of hugs and snuggles. They traded sides of the fence.
When Mark was a baby he would awaken at unearthly hours. I am a night owl, so I would stay up until 1 am and then he would wake me up very early, so I hardly got any sleep and walked around like a zombie with dark circles under my eyes for years. Once, when he was about two years old, he said to me "Did you know there is a four, zero, zero in the night too?" That particular time he didn't wake me up, so I asked him "What did you do at four, zero, zero in the night?" Mark responded "I watched TV." Oh, you can just imagine what wonderful children's programming is on at that hour! He had watched a show where a woman was jumping off of a bus! He got a quick lesson in how to use the VCR to view his children's videos. But, now, as an adult he sets his alarm and it can actually be going off for over 20 minutes and yet he doesn't even rouse, but then when he finally wakes up enough he hits the snooze, and then continues to hit it every 5 minutes for literally HOURS! So, why couldn't he sleep as a baby?? Phil on the other hand, fought going to sleep at night when he was a little guy. It took him forever to unwind enough to fall asleep. He would kick the wall (gently) beside his bed to unwind. The wall beside his bed was always dirty! Now, he's the one with farmer's blood saying "I'm tired, I'm going to bed." Just another example of them switching sides of the fence.
Reading and being read to was Mark's favorite activity as a youngster. He loved his books. He learned to read before I had a chance to even teach him. We were on our way home from preschool one day. The Scholastic book order had come in, so he had the books in his lap. He began reading one of the books out loud, The Carrot Seed. I asked, "Oh, did your teacher read that to you?" "No." I asked again "Have you ever seen this book before?" "No." My brother and I had grown up that with that story on an old LP record , which is why I had put it on the Scholastic order. But Mark had never heard it before. Here he was, reading it aloud, page after page. And it wasn't just a Dick and Jane reader. It was a story! I didn't even know he could read. Over the years we made regular trips to the library, and I bought lots and lots of books from stores and garage sales. He always had his nose in a book! These days, he rarely, if ever, reads. And even though he blames the fact that books written for adults aren't as interesting, he's on the other side of the fence.
When I was young, I was highly competitive. When we played a game, I was definitely playing to win. But now, it doesn't bother me at all to be at the bottom of the scoreboard. Today I just play for the fun of it, who cares who wins? I've hopped the fence.
When Phil was a baby/toddler he was a perfectionist. Every open cupboard door had to be shut. If a lid was off a jar, it had to be replaced. If he saw a scrap of paper on the floor in a store, he fussed until I picked it up and put it in a trash can. Now, you should see his room...you can't find the floor. Clean clothes and dirty ones are treated equally. It's as if someone took everything he owned and threw it all into the dryer and then opened the door and let it tumble onto the floor. Why couldn't he have just stayed on the other side of the fence?
When Mark's buddy Nick was a little guy, the last thing on his mind was food. He was far too busy to eat. His mother, Susan would try to find creative ways to con him into eating. She would make food look like faces, or animals. She would bribe him with promises or treats or whatever. Nothing she ever tried made any difference. He just wasn't interested in eating. This is the same young man who went with Mark to Red Lobster for the "All you can eat shrimp fest" and the waitress ended up bringing 12 or 13 plates of shrimp. Susan copied the receipt and it's hanging framed in Mark's room. I doubt Nick even remembers eating on the other side of the fence.
I was extremely ticklish as a child. I was always so frustrated that my mother wasn't ticklish. She had conquered it early in life because she had three older brothers who were merciless. My Dad was a little ticklish, unless he was angry, and then he wasn't at all. I realized that being ticklish was an option. About the time I got married I made a choice. I wasn't going to be ticklish any more. And guess what? I'm not. (unless I happen to be feeling very ornery... and then, just the bottoms of my feet, but then, I'm hardly ever ornery any more.)
It's as if you are born on one side and have to climb the fence at some point during your life, sometimes it's just to prove that you can. I am curious to know if others have seen my theory in action. I'd love to hear your stories about climbing the fence.
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