Whenever I pick Isabel up from school I always do the same thing before she can see me. I stand inside and peer through the window, watching her as she plays outside. I look not to make sure she’s ok, because I know that if she wasn’t they would have called me earlier. I look to see if she’s alone.
I look to see if she is playing at the kitchen by herself or with a friend. I look to see if she is in the reading center alone or with others. And I look to see if she’s marching around with her classmates and teacher, or if she’s toddling around aimlessly.
I’m looking to see if she’s introverted like me. Granted, at 2-years-old, doing anything alone or with other kids is pretty irrelevant, but I still wonder. In social situations I am more reserved. In crowded rooms I keep to myself or stick close to those I am comfortable with. In meetings I am often the one scribbling in the margins of my notepad, listening.
I am an only child, so I imagine that I might have had to entertain myself more than kids with siblings had to. But I don’t remember being lonely. I went to friends’ houses, participated on tons of sports teams, and was very active in high school. My parents certainly aren’t introverts, in fact I would argue they are the opposite, so it’s not like I lived in a silent home where nobody interacted with each other. Nonetheless, I’ve grown into someone that is more cautious than risky, cerebral than emotional, and quiet than outspoken, and I wonder if these are traits Isabel has somehow “inherited” from me.
I stare through the window to see if somehow her personality is already being shaped by mine. I wonder if her shyness at school, or if her being comfortable playing alone is a sign. I start wondering if there is something I could have, should have, done during her two short years that might have changed this, or if it’s just a phase, and she will blossom into a social butterfly like her mama.
During our short ride to school each day I try to talk to her. Engage her. The chances she responds are always 50-50, but I want to believe that something as simple as my conscious attempts at daily short in-transit conversations will help counteract any introvert tendencies I may or may not have slipped into her genes. I imagine my worrying isn’t abnormal for any parent, especially a first-timer. We naturally want the best for our kids. We want them to have friends, to play nice with others, and to succeed socially.
The fact that I look through the window one day and see her marching around the playground with her friends laughing and screaming, while the next day she might be alone in the fake kitchen feeding imaginary soup to her fake baby, isn’t nearly as important as me knowing that she is learning to be happy with or without others. I mean, she’s a finicky toddler still figuring out her place in this great big world, so it is highly unlikely that the decisions she makes one day to the next are linked to some inherent personality trait.
Ultimately, my parental (and personal) insecurities are trumped by her growing imagination and flourishing personality. I have no doubt that whatever degree of “introvertness” she may inherit from me will be balanced by the “extrovertness” of her mama and that she will turn out just fine.
Leave a Reply