Earlier this week while we were getting Connor ready to go to day camp I grabbed his hat and plopped it on his head. He immediately whipped it off and turned it around so that it was on his head backwards. He actually looked pretty cute, especially with the bit of hair sticking out the front, so I told him I wanted to take a picture of him.
This is what I got:
He just turned four. At least I think he did. Either that or we’ve had some sort of time warp and this is my teenager.
It does sort of feel like a glimpse of the future. (Oh, this kid is definitely going to define his own style as he gets older.) I mean, what’s with the face? He’s gone from doing that cheesy grin – scrunched eyes and big, all-teeth smile – to this. Backwards hat, menacing look, tongue out. And a Lego police car retrofitted with extra-wide wheels and a spear. All attitude, baby.
Is it because we buy him Lego with bad guys? Is he influenced by subtle messages in kids’ TV shows?
Nah. I think it’s just because he’s four going on 16.
My only consolation is that the day after this when I tried to drop him off at day camp he wouldn’t go. He rubbed my wrist as we went in the door and then wanted me to pick him up. While we waited to go in he buried his face in my skirt and then sat on my lap and hid his face in my neck. I got him as far as the sign-in door but that was it. He would NOT go in. He cried and cried and asked to go home, and this went on until I finally decided not to force it and we left. That was the first time we’ve ever had a problem getting him to go somewhere without us. Oh sure, he’s been nervous and a bit shy at times, but he’s never outright refused to go. (And then the next day he trotted right in there like the meltdown of the century had never happened.)
Forget 16. He’s four going on…four. And I kind of like him that way.
