In terms of age, my two sons are 4.5 years apart. In terms of disposition, they're from different planets. Which means I spend a lot of my time comparing them. Because that's what parenting is all about: Keeping score, picking a favorite, and hoping that one makes enough money to take care of you when you're crapping your pants on the reg.
Anyway, I've been scribbling on the Internet since 2004, and sometimes I stumble across words I'd written years ago, having no memory of originally putting them there. This happened the other day. And it reminded me that despite their differences, kids -- mine, yours, all of them -- are basically the same.
My oldest is eight (and a half, he'll remind you). Here's a conversation we had in April 2011, when he was four:
four-year-old: can i have some gum?
me: do you remember the rules?
four-year-old: just chewing, no swallowing.
(five minutes later…)
me: hey, where’s your gum?
My youngest just turned four. Here's a talk we had in January 2014, when he was two:
(driving in the car, 3 degrees outside)
two-year-old: Daddy, my hands are cold.
me: Why did you take your mittens off? Why don’t you put your hands in your pocket?
(after a beat)
two-year-old: My pockets are cold too.
Translation: "Your move, old man."