Nature vs. Nurture

This time around, it's all in the genes.

The other day Gobbles came to work with me since his summer schedule consists of Wednesdays with Grandma instead of school, and Grandma took some time off to go to the beach.  So, I brought my little man on a date to my office.  Things were going as well as could be expected with a child in the office, he watched movies, raced cars, snuggled on my lap while I typed a report, and asked what's THAT? to just about everything.  He made post-it artwork and was a big boy about the potty, excitedly shutting me out of the stall when he had to go.

Gobbles paraded proudly up and down the hallway grabbing things from the printer for me and delivering papers to the proper people.  He was very impressed to eat lunch with me in our little kitchen and was even more fascinated with the fact that his Thomas lunch bag magically appeared out of the office fridge.  After lunch, I turned down the lights in my office and laid out his nap mat in an attempt to get some uninterrupted things done. 

The next 45 minutes consisted of Gobbles playing with the bottom filing cabinet drawer and jumping / rolling around on his sleeping bag, basically doing everything but sleeping.  I gave up and decided it would just be another day without a nap, since they only seem to happen once in awhile now.  My son went about his business chatting it up with my coworkers, collecting little knickknacks that they offered him, and then he returned into my office with his favorite prize.

A pair of Twix bars.  See, our admin has a little basket on her desk with fun size chocolate, and had asked if she could give him some candy after lunch.  Sure, I told her, but just one.  Trying to pander favor with Gobbles (and pointing out I didn't elaborate on "just one"), she let him choose from her secret stash of full size candy, which I didn't realize until after I called her up half laughing half in shock that my son was clutching a long thin chocolate bar in each hand with an iron grip.  Have I mentioned she doesn't have kids?  I guess that can be her excuse.

Anyway, the combination of no nap and a chocolate high sent things downhill by about 4, so I started packing up.  Gobbles threw a monster tantrum that echoed through the halls of my small office even when the door was closed.  Thank God the people I work with are the coolest people ever and didn't seem to care... one of the VPs even called Gobbles into his office when we were on our way out and told him next time he comes in he'll have to play with some of the construction trucks that are in his office.

So- a long day at my work without my running around time + no nap + chocolate sets the stage for Gobbles' mood that evening.  First, we swung by daycare to pick up the Lil Lobster Roll, where Gobbles proceeded to kick one of her teachers in the shin as a greeting.  Completely embarrassed, I ushered the kids out and explained to him how what he did was not nice and that he hurt his teacher's feelings.  He then required an explanation on what it means to "hurt someone's feelings".  The simplest way I could put it was when you're not nice to someone, and they go from being happy to being sad.

Fast forward to bedtime, when Gobbles is throwing a tantrum for his father.  This one was the most epic one yet, as Daddy had told him it was time for a bath and for bed, but Gobbles wanted to throw things around instead.  When timeout was called, Gobbles began kicking and screamed in a shrill voice he'd never used before "No no NO daddy! You are HURTING MY FEELINGS!!!"

I balked from the bathroom, where I had been bathing the Lil Lobster Roll.  I've definitely heard that voice before.  In fact, I invented that voice as far as I know.  A voice as if your world is being torn apart by the most awful things in the world - your illogical parents, who just don't get it. And the approach?  Using something I just learned and throwing that back in their face?  Yup, guilty as charged. 

I looked at hubs with wide eyes and asked him if he ever remembers me reacting to him in that manner in the last two years, thinking Gobbles had to have seen it somewhere.  "No", said my confused husband, "why?"

Because I just looked into a mirror of my past.  Because that voice, that attitude, is something I used constantly between the ages of 12 and 18 when I would fight with my parents.  We already knew he was stubborn, but my God - my son is my son through and through, and it looks like while some habits are learned, others are definitely ingrained in your genetic structure.  And my mother is off and laughing, finally getting her justice, her win for those countless arguments.  I wish you have children just like you.

Lord help me when this child becomes a teenager.

Oh Yea - just another thing that makes me just. like. mommy.  My affinity for chocolate.