Superhero, Not Sidekick

For several years now, I’ve had a sidekick. Loa the cat follows me everywhere I go in our house, faithfully trailing along in adoration and dependence.

When Ian was a young infant, I imagined when we would be the same way — he trailing by my side, helping me as I went throughout the day.

Able to conquer pull toys with his bare teeth!

I should have known from his first few kicks in the womb — my oldest son is not a sidekick, he is a superhero.

He knows where he wants to go and want he wants to do. He is undaunted by any challenge, be it ferocious cat or heavy ottoman. He is a champion of doing what’s right, whether putting away toys or helping lock puzzle pieces in place. And, like all superheroes (and toddlers), he has those classic, angst-filled mood swings.

I find myself providing support, scheduling, supplies, and advice. I am relegated to the roll of Alfred Pennyworth. And you know? It fits me quite well. Sure, I still have my own interests, my own special skills. But I love equipping my son to be the person he is meant to be.

I’m not really fond of flying anyway.

But Ian? He’s a different story.