The Difference in the Daughters

Happy New Year, friends, and may this year bring you happiness, purpose, and a greater closeness to God.

Let me tell you a seventeen year old story that illustrates the differences between my two daughters and highlights a little bit the insecurity issues Basement Artist has dealt with her whole life.

Adored Wife's epilepsy was uncontrolled for several years when the girls were small and she didn't have driving privileges so I did most of the errands, including dropping the girls off at preschool (although we did carpool with some other families.)  Dropping Basement Artist off looked like this--she would cling tightly to me as I carried her in, where I would deposit her in the lap of Miss Julie, one of the teachers.  BA would wail for me and try to get away from the nice lady and get back to me as I walked out the door.  As reported to me later she would then cry for a few minutes, then decide to go play.

This happened for about the first two weeks of preschool until she got used to the place.  Miss Julie got quite a forearm workout.

Two years later when it was time for Social Hurricane to go to preschool, I barely got the car in park before she was out and running for the door, calling "bye" over her shoulder.  There were new friends to be made in there and new adventures to be had, and the Hurricane was going for it.

And, while obviously she's gotten better, Basement Artist is still uneasy about new situations and new people.  Next post I'll tell you about some of her coping mechanisms.

God bless, friends.