Intense
The Call: Passionate — Cheryl
Luke is my most intense child, followed closely by his brother Sam. As my husband so often reminds me, I run on “Doyle Time,” which is anywhere from 15 to 45 minutes behind real time. This does not often fly with Luke, who would arrive for any commitment 30 minutes early, if possible. Years ago, when Luke was rushing me out the door for a practice of one sort or another, I told him, “You’re a Type-A personality.” After I explained what that meant, he retorted, “Oh yeah? Well, if I’m Type-A, you’re Type-Z.” I can live with that.
The Response: Scribbles — Jessica
You know what’s intense? Parenting a two year old. I was intensely angry when I saw his “art work” on the foyer wall. And then I was intensely thankful for washable markers. When he saw me pull out the camera and snap a few shots, he was intensely happy with himself. Maybe I should have waited to take the picture until he had left the room. Hopefully our little Picasso will choose his medium with more care in the future. I won’t hold my breath, however.
You’re lucky, Jessica. My kids prefer permanent markers and somehow always manage to find them.
I can completely understand Luke! “On time is late and early is on time” is a phrase my kids have grown up with. My tendency toward type-a-ness has only been exacerbated by living in DC.