In all those psychology classes and Greek tragedies I read in college, there was always this connection between mothers and sons that didn’t really exist between between the son and father.
No way, I thought. If ever have a son, it’s gonna be great. We’ll go to games and play catch, I’ll teach him how to spit and throw a spiral and shave and be all manly.
Right now, I’d settle for a fist bump. Maybe a hug.
Brant doesn’t hate me, he’s too young to even know what that means. All I know is that he doesn’t like me the way he likes his mom. Or sister. Or grandparents. Or teachers. Or aunts. I think I’m ahead of the dog, but it’s nip-and-tuck.
Not sure what it is, but right now whatever I do with him, to him or for him is like pouring gas on a fire. The other day he told me to stop “akitaten” him (agitating him) when he was eating dinner.
Here are some instances that have occurred recently:
1. Whenever I open his bedroom door in the morning to get him dressed, he yells “No, mom.” He is still in a crib, so he can’t even see me, but I guess I open the door differently than my wife.
2. The other day I was touching his milk cup – akitaten him for sure – and he looked right at me, sans blinking, and said clear as day “Do. Not. Touch.”
3. I went to give him some more food the other night at dinner and he melted down because he wanted my wife to give him his onion ring and not me.
4. Last night when he cried for his binkeys at 2 in the morning, I went in to get them. After I opened the door (to which he freaked out because he could tell by the way I opened it that it was me), he stood up and screamed right in my face for mom. As I shifted the crib away from the wall to get the binks, he was pulling on the side of the crib like the Ultimate Warrior screaming “daddy, no move crib. Mommy!”
5. It was a worse reaction than the night before when the same thing happened, only he took it a step further when he laid back down and I went to rub his back to calm him down. He simply pointed at the door, without ever lifting his head up, and said “Go.”
So our relationship is a work in progress. Either way, I’m going out and buying my daughter a pink baseball glove just in case.