Somewhere in the recent history of my life, I was listening to someone talking about how we perceive others and how we might be prone to judge others, thinking "who do they think they are?!"
I'd really like to be more specific about where I was, who was speaking and exactly what they said. But gosh doggit, I truly can't remember. I've spent two days now wracking my brain, trying to figure out where I was. I think it might have been at church. Gosh, I'm not even 40 yet and my memory is slipping...
Anyway, the phrase "who do you think you are" has been rolling around in my head lately. Who do I think I am? Usually what comes up is "wife, mommy, blogger." Sometimes "part-time communications manager" shows itself, with the part-time being very deliberate because it somehow makes the fact that I'm a working mother o.k. (at least to me).
"Friend" doesn't often appear, though I do think I am a good friend. (Right friends who are reading this? Right?!) "Daughter" is another one that is true but rare in my response to the question.
But who I think I am is really pretty boring compared to who Robbie thinks he is. Robbie's self-chosen identities change frequently.
Last week, when he got undressed to take a bath I saw that he had drawn all over his belly and his legs with marker.
"Robbie, why did you do that?" I asked.
"Because I am HeatBlast" -- an alien from Ben10, his current favorite show.
A few days later, he was wearing a black cape, jumping off the couch and the ottoman. Of course, I was not surprised when he called out, "Look, I am Batman!"
But I have come to find out that even Robbie's soon to be six-year-old mind has its limitations about who he thinks he is:
"Mom, I wish I was a pterodactyl," he recently told me matter of factly. "But I'm not. I'm just a kid."