Sometimes the apple falls far from the tree

The frog recently turned three and it's amazing how she gradually turned into a fully sentient being in the last year. As she learned to speak in sentences and then in paragraphs, her thought processes became recognizably coherent and we were able to get a window into her wacky little head. Somehow, two introverted and mildly misanthropic nerds have produced an extroverted artist. She's an extremely sensitive soul who gets upset when other kids are being mean to each other and seems to have an intuitive understanding of other people's feelings. This is very different from both of us who struggle with knowing (dad) or caring (mom) too much about what the people around us are feeling. I have learned how to play tolerably well with others as an adult in part because I've come to understand myself better. I tend to prefer solitude and have few close friends, despite being encouraged otherwise as a child. I don't want my daughter to think that the way she's designed to relate to the world is odd or discourage it even though we're very different and it's been a bit of a challenge to understand.

Strangely, it wasn't the frog's conversations with total strangers or her rarely needing reminding to share that made me realize how different we are. Something really minor happened one night a few months ago while I was cooking dinner that made her cry. I want her to learn to calm herself down and mistakenly assumed that she needed the similar tools that I do in this situation. I gave her a hug and told her to find a cozy, quiet place to calm down. She hadn't hit the "I refuse to listen to you because I'm three" stage she's currently in at this point and went to her room. She climbed into bed and proceeded to sob bitterly. A casual observer would have probably thought someone had told her that she wasn't a fairy or that Hello Kitty wasn't her friend. I went in and hugged her until she stopped crying and we finished making dinner. I realized on my way to work the next morning that I had made her feel worse instead of giving her the tools she needed to calm down. I mulled this over and tried to remember what made me feel better as a small child. Turns out, I sought quiet places away from people when I was upset. I remember turning my closet into a secret hide-out and pretending that various creatures lived there. These creatures weren't really buddies; they were mostly sentries that kept other people out so I could mope. Hiding in closets has its shelf life and metaphorical hiding (mostly) replaced the literal kind, but I remain someone who prefers to work things out on my own. 

I realized the toad is built differently and that I needed to ask someone more like her about this. I have a very dear friend who is the definition of an extrovert so I asked her whether she would feel punished if someone told her to sort out her own emotions when she's upset. She replied that she would and I felt one of those "aha" moments. My daughter thought I was punishing her instead of giving her what I thought was the space she needed. She started crying hysterically because she thought I was mad at her for being upset and she was confused that a person she relies on for comfort was seeming to do the opposite.  I may have learned the hard way, but I now ask her if she wants to talk about it when she's upset or if not, whether she wants me to sit with her. I'm also learning that she's never going to volunteer to be alone or even see this as desirable. Her third birthday party brought this one home. We had at least thirty kids and grown-ups running around blowing giant bubbles, painting faces, and being wild on a large lawn next to her favorite playground. When it was over, the rest of the family hid in dark corners to read or otherwise be alone while she went looking for someone to play with. We let her watch Charlotte's Web that afternoon... I'm hoping she maybe learns to be more content with solitude as a result of having us for parents and maybe we'll learn to be less misanthropic. Regardless, I hope she grows up knowing that I'm not going to try to force her to be something she isn't and that it's ok for the apple to fall far from the tree.