Who is afraid?

Something I love about parenting is watching Wylie turn into his own person.  With his own ideas, own fears, own dreams.  Not mine.  He's even learning to distinguish between what he likes and we like, and let it be known.

A very common dressing issue these days is that I love sweaters and jeans.  It's sweater and jean weather, everyone!  So as I pull out an outfit for Wylie, he'll say:

"Mommy.  I HATE jeans.  They don't feel good.  And YOU love that sweater.  I HATE that sweater".

That's right.

................
I remember a similar story from my own childhood where I was granted my own room.  My mom walked into my new room to see me taping pictures of animals and pushing stickers onto brand new wallpaper at my eye level.  Aghast, she said, "Sarah, what are you doing?!"

I said, "Decorating my room"

And after my mom said that it's not how we planned to decorate it, I said, "whose room is this, anyways?"

Mom: "Yours, Sarah"

Me: "Then when does it start being mine?"

Mom: "Today, Sarah"

Up went the stickers and hodge podge.
............

As Wylie held the Nielsen family snake- I had visions of it squeezing Wylie to death.  I was sweating.

And I caught myself yelling (in my head, of course):

"STOP! PUT THE SNAKE DOWN!  SNAKES ARE TERRIFYING, and GROSS, and DANGEROUS!  STOP WYLIE!"

And then I remembered, I am afraid of snakes.  Not Wylie.  I think they're scary, he thinks they're awesome.  Yet another reason that I find myself wishing I was little more like him.

Brave dude, huh?