My son, at only 16 months, is actually quite good at sharing things.
Sure, he has trouble giving up a treasured item when it’s time to put it away (ie his cup of water for bedtime the other day made him lose his cool) or when we leave without enough warning (five minute warning was actually only one minute – I didn’t think he could tell time!)
But he’s always been good at sharing or waiting his turn. He totally understands when I say “There’s someone using that right now, we will come back for a turn when they are done” or “Let’s share and let this little girl have a turn” And at daycare and play dates, he follows the trade rule. If you want a toy, you have to see if the person would like to trade for it. Most times they do, he gets his item and everyone is happy. And when they don’t want to trade, he scrambles to find a new toy to offer.
Yesterday, though, I learned what he’s not willing to share.
I got to his daycare to pick him up and came into the playroom where two girls, him and the instructor were playing. One little girl flocked to me and wanted me play with her. And D lost it. He forced his way onto my lap, wrapped his stick-thin arms around me and told his friend “Noooo!” There weren’t tears. But there was a desperation I haven’t seen often.
He was not willing to share me. Not one bit.
Maybe it stemmed from not seeing me much lately. With work, I had only seen him about twenty minutes a day for the previous three days.
Maybe it was just his mood. Though he was happy as a clam in the stroller on the way home.
Who knows. But seeing him not want to share me was quite odd. And somewhat heart-swelling.
I love this age when they start showing more and more affection. When their little heads rest on your shoulder for a snuggle before being put to bed or when they are playing on their own, across the room, look at your with a big smile and run over for a kiss out of nowhere. Or when you read a book and he holds your fingers in his little itty bitty hand.
I don’t want him to grow up for my own selfish reasons but I know that as he gets older, we’ll only bond more. Until he hits grade 3 and suddenly, over night, Mom is not cool anymore. And I have to give him a hug before he leaves for school in the privacy of home, and drop him off six blocks away in case on of his friends see him walking to school with his mom.
Excuse me while I go wipe my eyes. There must be an eyelash or a speck of dirt in there. Honest.