(OMG, I thought I posted this on FRIDAY.  Apparently… I didn’t.  So here it is now.  TWO days later.  I suck.)

Today was a busy day that had a lot of things for us to get done out of the house. On the way home, Kile and I got to talking about “normal” kids. And how THANK GOD, so far our kids don’t seem entirely normal.

When kids are little, I think EVERYONE strives for normality. The parents, the kids, society…

But the fact of the matter is that quirky kids, most of the time, make awesome adults. When you’re a kid, it’s all about fitting in and not standing out in a crowd. Parents worry if their child seems different from other kids because maybe that will mean they’ve done something wrong. Society m mistrusts anything or anyone they can’t lable neatly or otherwise compartmentalize.

I noticed it when Harry first started school. There were the other kids that all seemed to fall in line so neatly. And then there was Harry, who would suffer a mental collapse if someone asked for a turn on the tricycle before we was done with it. I worried about him. I wondered how my sensitive, quirky child would ever fit in.

I think I worried because I too was a quirky child. I struggled a lot while growing up because I could never seem to quite fit in. And it’s natural for a mother to want her children to have it better, easier, than she did.

Of course, I have to remind myself that his quirky perosnality will make him a more interesting adult.  And his ability to entirely himself is part of what makes me love him.  Would I want him to change?  Not on your life.

Though it might be nice if when I ask him to carry a glass to the kitchen for me, quickly, and to not look down inside the glass while he’s doing this, that he actually LISTEN to me instead of looking down at the glass, seeing the spider sitting inside it and throw it across the kitchen and basically act like a complete nutjob.