But is he left or right handed?

In my ongoing study of Toby's behavior and whether it more closely reflects aspects of Michelle's personality or my own, I made an interesting observation today. Toby and I were outside. I was shooting baskets (yes, I have a hoop now; come on over and I'll whup your butt at HORSE) while Toby drove around on his fire truck. I noticed he tended to drive it closely around the perimeters of various things, be they cars in the driveway or the edge of the house. This may strike you as curious behavior or merely cute, but I recognized it immediately.

He likes having a pattern; a guideline or path to follow.

When I was a kid I liked things organized and I liked being given a task to complete. I didn't do as well when left to entertain myself without any specific activity to do. And it wasn't a lack of imagination so much as a preference for following instructions. Of course I haven't changed much...I'm a computer programmer now, and while the vocation actually does require creative thinking, I usually enjoy the rote, routine tasks just as much. Am I boring you yet?

There are two well-worn stories which my Mom loves to trot out when it comes to illustrating what a bizarre child I was. The first was when I was three. I have a brother 16 months younger than I, so at this time he was about 1.5 years old. He was an active and precocious little boy, and by this time he could and would climb out of his crib if left alone, plummeting to his owie. In the spirit of scientific experimentation befitting a medical doctor, my mom put me in his crib to see if I would climb out as well. 45 minutes later, there I sat, quietly waiting to see what would happen next. Who was I to question my lot in life? I was the preschool-aged personification of Philippians 4:12.

Second comes the MK story. For my readers unaware, my parents were missionaries in Haiti somewheres around 1982-85. So I must have been about 5 when most of my toys were packed away in boxes in preparation for the move. I watched with detached interest as my parents disassembled my bike and carefully placed its component parts into a crate. Several of these crates traveled by boat or something, so they didn't arrive in Haiti until months after we had. When they did, my mom tried to engage my enthusiasm.

JOSH'S MOTHER
(excitedly)
Josh, your bike is finally here!

YOUNG JOSH
(flatly)
But Mom, you broke my bike.

Long PAUSE.

Again, this was months later. Thinking my parents were heartlessly destroying my bike, presumably out of sheer maniacal whimsy, I watched emotionlessly and said nothing about it.

Of course I remember none of this. Moving from the 52nd to the 18th degree of latitude at age 5 will do a number on your temporal lobe. My memories start in Haiti.

Anyway, I think Toby has a good blend of his parents' two personalities. He's not afraid to take risks (Michelle), but he respects limits (Josh). He plays quietly by himself in his room for extended periods of time (Josh), then runs excitedly to his parents and babbles all about it to them (Michelle). On the day he beats me at HORSE, then plays Vivaldi's concerto in E flat on the violin, I'll know we did good.