As much as I try not to, I am constantly comparing my daughter to my son. Not in a negative or positive way, mind you. Just in a factual “Hmm…she is the complete opposite of her brother!” way. I often find it hard to believe they are related.
Their different behaviors may be due to gender or genes. I don’t really care. I am not into debating it. I just find it hilarious.
For instance, consider the ball. It’s one of the simplest toys out there. You throw, roll, bounce or kick it. Fun ensues.
When my son was three years old, this is how “ball play” went down.
Him: “Mama! Play ball?”
We would immediately launch into ball rolling mode. Back and forth…back and forth…it was mesmerizing. He giggled. I giggled. We rolled. End of story.
My three year old daughter wanted to play ball with me this morning. And this is how it went down.
Her: “Mommy? Okay, let’s get a ball and roll it.”
Her: “No! Not the blue one, I want the ball with the princesses on it!”
Her: “Now, you have to roll it like this.”
Her: “No, no, no! Like this! Not like that!”
Her: “Now I want you to bounce it once to me.”
I bounce it once to her.
Her: “In the middle! Not to the side! And it has to go like this, not like that!”
Her: “Let’s get the blue ball instead.”
I roll the blue ball to her once.
Her: “Ah! GRRRR! You’re not doing it right!”
Me: sighing louder
Then, the ball playing ended. I’m not sure it actually ever began.
Are boys and girls different? At least in my house, without a shadow of a doubt.