The Beat of a Drum

My son is of a very literal, letter-of-the-law kind of bent. After he brushes his teeth at night, he first has his vitamin and then his allergy pill -- not the other way around. And heaven forbid you wash his face in the wrong sequence of the above mentioned events, for you'll have quite a battle of wills on your hands. He eats his fruit only in the afternoon, not in the morning. He grieves mightily when I have to wash Blue Blanket, for he detests the smell and feel of its altered (albeit clean) state. He completely freaked out at bedtime a few nights ago (unfortunately on my mom's watch while we were out) when he realized that, after I changed the sheets on his bed earlier that day, I did not put the matching pillow case on from the set (which had shrunk in the wash), but rather another solid blue one that I had handy. He cried and wailed and was completely unable to go sleep in this condition. The thing is, he's not kidding. This isn't some kind of kiddie-rant "I want my way" temper tantrum -- he was very serious, and very particular. He's OK now about the pillow case, but it took a while to get to this point.

Grace, on the other hand, is a fly-as-you-go kind of girl. She could care less what's on her bed. She wouldn't pay any attention to the way her bread is cut. Vitamins and teeth brushing -- who cares? And when it comes to swimming ... well, who says you can't use the other side of the kiddie pool? Who says you can't flip it over and have just as much fun on the other side, taking a nap or star-gazing? I enjoyed watching her ... especially toward the end, when her little shape somehow turned the pool into a heart.

Two very different kids marching to two very different drums. And boy, do I adore them both.