A Creature of Habit

There is no doubt in my mind that Daniel is my flesh and blood. Aside from some obvious physical similarities, there exist certain behavioral tendencies that serve as evidence to me (and many others who know me well) that Daniel has inherited my love of routine and structure. Not only does he enjoy the act of rearranging objects and putting things away (in fact, sometimes I wish he would just play more and not worry so much about cleaning up), but his behavior follows a neat and orderly pattern that I observed with my own eyes earlier today.

We visited Daniel's grandparents for breakfast. He has been to their house many times, and he seems to follow the same routine each time he's there. After getting over the initial surprise of Lucy's loud barking, Daniel heads for his toy corner in the living room. He usually goes for the ride-on fire truck or the crate of blocks. If his grandmother takes out the fold-up playhouse, he immediately opens the garage or pushes down the flowers. It's like these actions are imprinted on his brain, and triggered when he sees the playhouse. Sometimes he wanders into the kitchen and goes directly to the intricate-looking vent on the floor. Inevitably, he'll make his way into the formal living room and bang out a few notes on the piano. Then he'll walk over to the fireplace and take a peek in the ornamental box on the hearth. I can almost hear the gears turning in his mind. "Piano, check. Open the box, check."

We ventured upstairs for a diaper change in his Daddy's old bedroom. Daniel has explored this room before, and took a strong liking to two paper-mache clowns on the dresser. Now, whenever he sees the clowns, he has to give each one a kiss. To be honest, the clowns kind of creep me out. But Daniel loves them, and no trip upstairs is complete without showering them with his affection. While Daniel's behaviors nowhere near resemble OCD, I do sometimes worry that he'll be burdened with his inherited anal-retentiveness for the rest of his life. I'll keep an eye on him, but if following a predictable routine makes him happy (and he continues to be flexible when necessary) then I guess I can stop feeling so guilty.