Listen to thisMy son Sam runs so fast on the carpet that when he inevitably trips, he tumbles and skids, his face literally breaking his fall. Then he laughs and gets up for more, all while nattering a silly running commentary. It’s like he’s souped up on some high-octane fuel. He is so different from anyone I have ever met, certainly unlike me, or my calm, introspective daughter. And although he has always looked like his dad, I’ve never seen his father exhibit the type of wildly comical behaviour that Sam does. How did he learn to be such a natural ham at this young age? Is this behaviour learned or was he just born this way? The question of nature versus nurture arises.
When Sam was born four years ago, we had no idea what to expect. Our first-born was a stereotypical girl; a quiet watcher who never strayed far and focused on her highly developed fine motor skills. The boy has been a bit of a shock. Although I sometimes have the urge to quash his spirit and shush him, I realize it’s only because of my inhibitions and unrealistic expectations. I think our family has a lot to learn from Sam. Wouldn’t it be great to go through life so sure of what you want (and equally important, what you don’t want), feeling free to let people know exactly how you feel? I’m from the old school of accepting anything people have to offer so as not to offend them, and being seen but not necessarily heard. Sam doesn’t believe any of that’s necessary, and he may be right.
Since the beginning, Sam’s pure self has been in clear view. His needs are always easily expressed and understood. Now that he can speak he has no reservations telling us what he likes or doesn’t like. Out of the blue, he will announce to anyone in particular, “I really want a rocket ship”, or “I really need that Batman motorcycle”.
He never gives up asking for things he wants, be it having candy, watching TV or acquiring a new toy. His tenacity is amazing. He’ll argue and possibly throw a tantrum when the answer is no, only to bide his time until he can ask again, when he thinks our defenses are weakened. Or better yet, he’ll just ask someone else. He has no problem letting total strangers know of his needs. He also has no issues with lying, saying “Daddy said it’s okay” when evidently, Daddy didn’t. Resourceful, some might say. Alarming, I say.
My son is infatuated with superheroes and has been since before he was two years old. He hasn’t watched many on television, as most are too violent. But apparently, his little-boy DNA is built to recognize Spiderman and Superman.
Even before he could talk, he would spot their comic-book likeness on posters or boxes of food at the grocery store and squeal with delight. He is happiest with a dishtowel cape clothes-pinned around his neck, chasing bad guys and pretending to fly through the air. Thoughtful neighbours have handed down Spiderman jean jackets and superhero t-shirts. As considerate parents, we have purchased for him many pajamas and coloring books emblazoned with the mighty idols. The word “sell out” comes to mind. But when he opened his gift of new Buzz Lightyear pajamas last Christmas, the look of pure joy on his face was addictive and, right or wrong, we do what we can to feed this obsession.
Sam has always been fascinated with guns, and except for a lightsabre (which was a gift) he doesn’t have any. This doesn’t stop him from creating them out of Lego or cardboard. He used to use his fingers to shoot me with both barrels when he didn’t like something I said (usually “no”). I explained how this was inappropriate and that we don’t shoot people when we disagree, but we try to use our words. Next, he resorted to raising only his index finger, pointing it at me from behind his back, and pulling his little thumb trigger while making soft shooting noises to express his anger. When he talks about killing bad guys I share my concern and ask him to perhaps capture the bad guys, or maybe just rescue someone instead. I don’t like the killing, I say. He rolls his eyes and says, it’s just pretend, like I don’t understand. And obviously I don’t. I didn’t interfere in my daughter’s imaginary play. I don’t remember telling her what her fairy princess or butterfly could or couldn’t do.
Sam has always loved singing, usually at the top of his lungs while we’re trying to enjoy a meal. My daughter thinks singing must be his hobby. She’s convinced he’ll be a professional clown when he grows up. Among his first words were “nana-nana-boo-boo”. There must be an unwritten law somewhere that little brothers learn this phrase in their first few years of life, and know exactly how to use it to maximum effect on their big sisters. Shortly after this, he began telling me that I smell like a monkey eating chicken. Thank you very much. His Dad smells like a big blue monkey eating cheese and his sister smells like a monkey eating pizza. This would make him laugh uncontrollably. How did he know this was humorous?
I wonder how much of Sam’s behaviour is due to his being a second child and how much is due to our inability as older, busier, more tired parents to pay as much exclusive attention to him as we did his sister. My husband and I watched and diligently recorded our daughter’s every breath, step and milestone. We’ve been present for Sam’s firsts too, but they’ve been acknowledged on the way tosoccer practice, swimming lessons, shopping or school. Has he had to ramp things up so we’ll notice him? He definitely understands the principle of “any attention is good attention”, be it us laughing with (at?) him or screaming at him, it’s all the same to him, as long as someone takes notice.
Sam’s ability to be the comic and make people pay attention has become a useful tool for him. He is able to employ his special talents when the going gets tough and he gets in trouble. Nothing defuses a situation faster than someone doing an elaborate pratfall off the couch while making funny noises. He also senses when others are in trouble, or when situations are generally tense, and uses his talent for slapstick to change the focus. This allows everyone to have a giggle, take a deep breath and stop taking him or herself quite so seriously. This is a skill I may not appreciate as much when he is a teenager, but it is also one I wish I had.
So I can’t answer the age-old question of nature versus nurture. But if the question is did we assist in the creation of this charming monster, then the answer is, yes, we probably did. However it is happening that he is becoming the person that he is, we are all the richer for being a part of it.
