Last Friday was your grandson’s birthday. My first born. Casey. I posted on Facebook that he was three weeks overdo, the doctor induced labor on a Thursday and 42 ½ hours later—on Saturday, he was born. On his dad’s birthday. That joke became a reality. I suppose one couldn’t give a better gift.
Casey’s dad has a reputation for being late, so it wasn’t surprising the little stinker inside my belly refused to pop out. Stubbornness swims in the family gene pool (myself included) so he had no chance escaping that one.
Before Casey could walk, he went from rolling over (skipped crawling) to getting around on his knees—fast too. He zipped around everywhere on his knees. My family thought it was hilarious. We all joked, calling him Neil. My stepmother voiced concern that something was wrong with him and that I needed to make him walk. Being as stubborn, I ignored her advice. Casey eventually walked. On his terms.
I quickly learned that children think for themselves and sometimes have their own agenda.
Like the time Casey was around two. I had some errands to run so I had his outfit all picked out. He refused to wear it. I explained how stripes and checks don’t go together. What would people think of me dressing my child in mismatched clothes? Casey stomped his foot, shook his head no and wouldn’t listen to my common sense on fashion. We argued with what seemed like hours until I finally caved, feeling ridiculous arguing with a two year old. What am I doing? Who cares what he wears? I entered the store—Casey in his crazy clothes—wondering whether people noticed. Surprise. I wasn’t arrested by the fashion police.
Casey’s hard-headedness has gotten him into trouble a time or two, but overall it has proved to be an asset. His determination to do something with his artistic talents have been successful. Twenty seven years later, his clothing choice still worries me, but then fashion isn’t my strong suit either. And he definitely makes up for it in other ways.
(Casey’s website: http://www.threeleggedlegs.com)