Perfectly Different: On Losing Things

Ever since Gage was old enough to communicate we have noticed some quirks. He remembers things. Pretty much everything. Combine this with his quirk to sort and hide things all over the house and its made for some pretty entertaining episodes.

"Hey Mom, remember that blue bouncy ball I got at Pizza Hut when we went to visit your friend Dana? I put it in the red bag under my bed with the ball the Easter Bunny brought me when I was two."

Kid's toys knowingly come with dozens of pieces. Some children (Max) actually play with these toys. Gage? He spends "play time" looking for the 1 or 2 pieces that have seemingly grown legs and walked away.

"I cannot find the little sheep. Not this little sheep. I'm looking for the little sheep that has paint missing on one of its feet."

I used to think it was so annoying. We have spent hours looking for things he KNOWS are missing. If he cannot find them, its because I have moved them or his brother has moved them. Because obviously, if he put it somewhere he knows exactly where he left it.

"Mom, we have to go back to the park. Last week, I left a green crayon under the silver slide."

Now I think Gage's "Find It" superpower is pretty much the coolest thing ever. I no longer need to keep track of a.n.y.t.h.i.n.g. Lost my wallet? Just ask Gage. Can't find the remote? Just ask Gage. Misplace a paper bag we used that Sunday we learned about David and Goliath at church? He will know where I left it.

And then there's Max.

I'm convinced Max doesn't give a crap about locating anything. His personality is so much more laid back than Gage's was at this age. Also, his brother retrieves misplaced toys and food before Max even knows they're gone. I swear I could ask the kid where his face is and he'd smile and say, "I don't know." Tonight he was looking for "two army guys and cowboy fighter" toy figurines while he was sitting in his bed. I literally picked up the blanket covering his legs and they were right there.

Two and a half years separates these two cuties in age. Their interests and personalities separate them even further. Thankfully, for us, they are the perfect compliment to each other.

If you missed previous installments of Perfectly Different, check them out below!

Perfectly Different
Perfectly Different: Sock Fetish

Perfectly Different: Sock Fetish

These children are most peculiar. We covered a few examples of how they're different but here's one similarity: sock fetish.

Max's sock fetish is still developing, but it goes something like this: the only acceptable time for socks to not be touching his feet are while he's bathing. Socks to bed are one of my biggest pet peeves, so I've never put socks on my kids to sleep. Now that he's old enough to choose for himself, socks are the first thing he puts on at night. And if you help him get undressed to use the toilet, be careful not to touch his sock because if they move in the slightest or get off kilter on his foot he throws a holy tantrum.

Onto Gage

I'm not sure when his sock obsession started. To be perfectly honest, I hardly ever put socks on him. Until I figured out the kind of socks that actually stay on a baby (as opposed to flying off at the first kick) he just sort of existed without them. I remember little old ladies at church scolding me and telling me he needed socks on all the time. I just smiled. I remember seeing other babies wear socks underneath their footed sleepers, thinking their parents had lost their mind. Somewhere between 24 and 30 months, when his language centers exploded and his free play time increased exponentially, the kid started doing things with socks.

He'd wad them up and stuff them in the most unusual places (under his pillow, behind the doors). He played with them. Taking all the socks out of his drawer, unfolding them, wadding them up and stashing them away became one of his favorite games.

Sometimes he'd put 3 or 4 socks on each foot before he declared himself ready for the day. When I picked him up from daycare in the evening, still wearing 8 socks, the sitter would tell me he did fine with the socks all day. (but probably didn't eat his lunch and most likely went to time out for intentionally somersaulting off the couch.)

Here are a few other sock stories of Gage's, pulled from my Facebook archive:

February 3, 2010 at 4:12 pm

Me: Go sit down and find something quiet to play with.

Gage: Ok, I will go and play with my socks. (hello weirdness)

February 9, 2010 at 8:47 pm
Tonight, his socks will "sleep" in the window. We're not yet certain where Gage will sleep...he's nomadic when the sun goes down.

(Please excuse the "in progress" construction picture)

June 11, 2010 at 7:40 am

Me: What would you like to use to make a project for Grandpa Chuck's birthday?

Gage: Ummmm, I think I'll use my socks.

September 16, 2010 at 5:35 pm

Last week Gage was afraid to touch an earthworm and didn't want to get too close to butterflies. Last night he said "Dammit" and this morning he put a screwdriver in his sock and told me he was "taking a knife to daycare". Time to call a therapist?

As you can see, the sock fetish runs deep in the boys' blood. It makes me giggle and is (hopefully) a harmless obsession.

Perfectly Different

Since Max came into our lives almost two and a half years ago, one thing immediately because clear: these two little boys have the same point of origin, but most similarities end there. Max has understandably picked up on many of Gage's tendencies as learned traits, but at the core their personalities are quite different. Each boy poses his own unique set of challenges, and thankfully they compliment each other quite well.

Cautious and Carefree

We'll start with Gage. He has always been extra careful, no doubt thanks to a hovering mother. Fifteen months old and the kid was in and out of his crib at leisure. That reckless behavior, among others, caused me to be over protective. My helicopter tendencies have given him a semi-paralyzing fear of the unknown. Last week I told the boys to go explore. It was nice outside and their obsession with all things hunting needed to be fed. "Put on your boots and go explore the long grass and trees on the hillside. I'll stay here and watch." Gage immediately started in with the questions:

What should I wear?
How far can I go?
Do I need my backpack?
Are there snacks in my bag?
When should I come back?
What if I can't hear you?
And on and on and on.

I'm trying to help him earn some independence, and take back my sanity. I'm also working to earn back my patience badge that was taken back after a period of incessant barking so I took the time to answer his questions. He seemed satisfied and turned (loaded with backpacks, snacks and boots) for an adventure.

Max was almost out of sight by the time he decided to leave.

Since I've spent every waking moment of Max's 2 1/2 years of existence answering an infinite amount of his brother's questions, he sort of just does whatever we tell him to do. I said, "explore" and he took off through chest-deep weeds and ankle-deep mud, fearless and alert.

Gage: Cautious, Details Aren't Optional

Max: Carefree, Under the Radar

Likeness: Both giggle when I say "booty" or "fart".

Scarecrow and Tinman

I'm 90% obsessed with all things Wizard of Oz. It dates back to our high school musical production which ingrained some of the best memories from my teenage years into long term storage. I've started introducing the boys to bits and pieces. I'm certain they aren't prepared to see the green faced wicked witch start on fire in the classic version, but they've seen some kid friendly flicks and seem amused.

Max is my Tinman. I realize in the film Tinman needed a heart but at the end, they realized he had one the whole time, blah blah...(it seemed so obvious to me through the whole thing, but whatever). Max often tells me things like, "You look like a pwincess mommy!" and "I love you most!" Friends have called his hugs healing and the boy just lives to love. He truly is a ray of sunshine.

Gage has his own way of loving. He has never been interested in snuggling or cuddling, prefers to run, laugh, giggle, tickle and fight to show affection. This morning he told me, "I have three best friends in this house. My brother, Wrangler (the dog), and Daddy!" It brought me to tears. I know he didn't mean to make me feel like the fifth wheel, but seriously. He clearly doesn't know how blatant this boy/girl ratio is staring me in the face right now. And he does love me. At that instant, he just loved EVERYBODY ELSE more.

In keeping with theme, he is clearly our Scarecrow right now. The boy loves to learn, loves to be fed new information, and loves to discover things on his own. He's really into math right now so our common conversation in the car goes something like this:

Gage: Hey Mom what's 4+4?

Me: What Gage?

Gage: 8! Know what happens when you take away 6?

Me: Nope.

Gage: You have 2!

This conversation continues until we reach our destination. Sometimes I quiz him, but usually the numbers just run through his head and he shares with anyone willing to listen. Not bad for a 4 year old!

Throw in my courageous hubby, my homebody self and our yippity dog and we're the full cast of characters.

Likeness: They have a definite opinion about what they should wear, and it usually isn't my first pick. Superman costume the 10th of May on Main Street? Have no fear, Cowboy Superman is here!