Daniel is a trooper. Of course, most 2-year-olds are. Not only do they believe they are invincible, but they pretty much are. You know how the U.S. Post Office's slogan says they will deliver the mail come sleet, snow, rain, mudslide, or tsunami? (I'm paraphrasing.) My toddler will play outside in all aforementioned weather conditions. With no hat or gloves. Coat unzipped, inappropriate footwear, whatever. This past Saturday, we got our first snowfall of the season. Daniel insisted on going outside. ("Walk!" he demands.) I have not yet purchased snow boots or any sort of winter gear for him. But I knew the snow and cold wouldn't bother him, so I figured, "What the heck?" I stuffed his feet into last year's boots, pulled his coat sleeves down over his hands, and sent him outside.
He stayed out there for a good half-hour. Even then, he resisted Peter's attempts to get him back in the house. His hands and face were red, he could barely walk in his small boots, but he was having the time of his life. Cold temperatures and wet clothes weren't going to stop him. Peter was a different story. He couldn't wait to come inside, grumbling about the cold. I wonder what changes between the magical years of childhood and becoming a cynical adult. When do we lose the ability to weather all sorts of uncomfortable environments for the sake of good old-fashioned fun? What makes us adults such whiners?
And that's just where weather is concerned. Let's talk about pain for a moment. We all know that women have a remarkable tolerance for pain (trust me -- I delivered Daniel without medicinal assistance). But so does Daniel. He hurts himself at least once a day, and rarely makes a peep. Today I picked him up from school to find a huge scratch under one eye. His teacher doesn't know how it happened because Daniel didn't even flinch when it did. I'm thrilled that he's so resilient and not overly dramatic, but I am truly stumped as to how he will one day turn into his father. Peter cannot endure needles. He can't even handle a paper cut or hangnail without a lot of complaining. If he is feeling under the weather, he curls up in a ball on the sofa and moans. What happened to the little boy who was once impervious to pain? And, most importantly, is there any way I can keep Daniel from growing out of that?
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