The thing is, it's mostly a show. I hide my insecurities very well, and only those with the deepest of understanding see through the glaze. It's a strong glaze, built on years of layered lacquer, and a fine dusting of schmoozey light deflection. It's there, but light bends around the true me.
So the boy has the worst of that. Or is it that I have created circumstances where he has fallen down, and I picked him up rather than let him get up himself. I didn't think I did that but when 20:20 hindsight kicks in, you start doubting yourself. Children pick up on who you are, not just what you want them to be. There will inevitably be some of your bad habits that they pick up - and it's hopefully not the worst ones.
In their learning process, they see what is considered normal, and believe that it is normal. Perhaps that's aggressive behaviour, drink or drug addition. Perhaps its bossiness, being spoilt, or ego. Perhaps it's the paradigm that it is possible to love multiple people at the same time. Perhaps it's the lovely laid back attitude, lack of arguments, cynicism, humour and sensitivity. Perhaps it's the ability to be a good and deep friend, but only to a small number of people. Maybe it's the work ethic, or principles, or unbending beliefs.
Maybe it's more or less of any of those things. Not just me, but all of humanity rises and falls when one parent-child relationship continues the delegated responsibility for the grandparent's ideals.
But it mutates slightly through each step. My son is not me. He may have some of my ideals (the good ones I hope) but he is so much more - as he has all his own ideals too. I hope to share in learning about those ideals as I get older, and he does too. I hope I have a friend in my son.
